


Stain the Canvas

by Tofutti



Series: Linked Universe [3]
Category: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Injury, Death, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Legend (Linked Universe) Learns About Theoretical History Against His Will, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Mortality, Parent Time (Linked Universe), Secrets, Time (Linked Universe) Needs a Raise, bones - Freeform, more like a canon tweak really, petition to make that a common tag, time’s got some unrealistic expectations for himself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:35:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26098729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tofutti/pseuds/Tofutti
Summary: Not every body gets a proper burial. In the wake of the Calamity, Hyrule became a land of corpses, of broken history, of mass graves. Now, newer bones stain its lands, their origin a mystery to all but a few.In a forest named for the dead, a lily blooms within its sun-bleached cage.Or: Wild, like any of the heroes, has plenty of secrets. There's one in particular, though, that he's not sure he can keep under wraps - one that he's desperate to hide. Meanwhile, Time doubts his abilities as he struggles to keep the group from falling apart.
Relationships: Background Link & Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Background Link/Malon (Legend of Zelda), Time & Wild (Linked Universe)
Series: Linked Universe [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1651279
Comments: 131
Kudos: 597





	1. Mosquito Bites

_ Dear Malon, _

_ Hello! Good evening! How are you?  _

_ I wish I could say that in person, or at least know you’ll read this. I still haven’t found a way to get these letters to you, and I’ve already been away for two weeks. It feels like longer. I’ll keep writing, though. If I have to, I can always just give these to you when I see you again.  _

_ It’s strange, traveling with the heroes. I’m the eldest one here, near as I can tell. They all call me “old man”. You’d laugh at me for it if you were here, I’m sure. But it does make me a leader of sorts, however unspoken. I know they’re all perfectly capable, but I can’t help but feel like their safety is my responsibility. No one should have to go through what these young men have. The least I can do is support them until they can return home. I can’t wait for you to meet them. _

_ How is the farm? Your father? You’d better not be getting Epona all fat again while I’m gone. Goddesses, I miss you so much. Sometimes, I’ll be sitting in camp and eating dinner, or talking to one of the others, and I’ll think of you, doing your chores without me, and it’s like my stomach is hollow, swallowing itself up. I can’t stop imagining how your hair smells after you’ve taken a bath. It’s always so soft… _

_ I’m getting sentimental. Why don’t I tell you about what’s going on in camp? That’ll keep me from getting too sappy. I know you love it, but I could write ten pages of it and I want to tell you about other things, too.  _

_ We’re set up somewhere in Wild’s Hyrule. He called this place the Forest of Spirits. Despite its eerie name, Wild says it’s a fairly tame place. We’re camping out in some “super creepy ruins”, in the words of Wind. Camp is fairly quiet right now. It isn’t quite yet time for dinner. We had a couple of big fights (no major injuries, thank the goddesses) and traveled a good way today, so we set up early. Everyone’s winding down. A lot of the others are writing, like me, probably to family. Four’s working on weapon maintenance while Wind regales some story or another.  _

_ It looks like Wild and Hyrule are arguing. I wonder what about? Those two are close, you know. They’ve already gotten lost together on two separate occasions and I won’t be surprised if it becomes a pattern. I can just barely hear… I know it’s rude to eavesdrop, but I may need to step in. _

_ Oh, it’s about Wild’s arm. He took a pretty heavy hit earlier, and now Hyrule wants to look at it. Wild won’t let him. He never lets anyone else check over his injuries. He always bandages them up before anyone can even realize he’s hurt. Goddesses know how does it so fast. The only exception was last week. He fell off a cliff and broke his leg. It wasn’t too bad, no blood or anything, but it must have hurt quite a bit because he let Hyrule heal it. I wonder if it has something to do with what happened to him… You know, the whole hundred-year-sleep thing. _

_ That kid worries me sometimes, Malon. They all do, really. If there’s something wrong, I’d like to know about it, to be able to do something about it. Everyone in the group has their secrets, that I understand. However, I worry that he’s endangering himself. His skin is perhaps the palest I’ve ever seen. He looks like death. If I hadn’t seen the sheer amount of energy the kid possesses, I would almost believe him to be terminally ill. He always feels so cold, as well. Sometimes it’s rather unnerving. I won’t press unless it becomes a problem. We’re all entitled to our fair share of secrets. It looks like Hyrule disagrees, though. Perhaps he’s right. Perhaps I should be more concerned. I don’t know. I’ve never done this before. Oh Hylia, if I can’t handle this, how can I ever hope to be a good father? _

_ Stars! I might have to stop writing soon and do something; those two are really going at it. I don’t know what I’d be able to do, though. I don’t have too much experience with this sort of thing. You’re so good at it. I don’t know what I’m doing. Malon, I need your advice.  _

Time stops writing and stares for a moment at the words. The ink hasn’t dried yet and it still bleeds a little, seeping its way across the page. Then, at the sound of raised voices from across camp, he sighs. Closing the journal he was writing the letter in and sticking it in his bag, he stands and makes his way over to where Wild and Hyrule are sitting. 

“…and I don’t know if you’ve done it safely, is all!” Hyrule is saying. “What if it gets infected? No one else has to look, I told you, just me! I know you like to pretend like you’re invincible, but you’re not!”

“Oh, so you just don’t trust me to take care of myself,” Wild accuses. “Seriously? You’re not the only one who traveled on their own.”

“Are you sure you aren’t just trying to avoid it?” Hyrule says. “You’re upset, because you should have dodged, or you’re scared because it’s really deep, and now you’re trying to forget it exists.”

“I-” Wild splutters. “ _ Forget _ ? You-”

“Hey, hey,” Time interjects before Wild can finish his sentence. “You need to cool off.”

“ _ He _ needs to  _ back  _ off,” Wild says, curling his lip. “I can take care of myself without him sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“I’m  _ trying _ to make sure you’re okay!” Hyrule fixes Time with a pleading look. “Come on, back me up here.” 

Time hesitates, unsure, and Wild whirls back to face Hyrule, glare sharpening.

“I  _ would _ be okay if you stopped bothering me about it!”

“What  _ is  _ it that you feel like you have to hide?” Hyrule throws his hands into the air. “You need to stop avoiding this!”

“Boys!” Time says. “If you can’t-”

“If we can’t  _ what _ , old man?” Wild gives him a flat look, then turns back to Hyrule. “I thought you, of all people, would leave well enough alone if I asked you to.”

Hyrule flinches back, eyes hurt, and Time cringes. His mind scrambles for a solution, digging for the words to make it better.  _ What do I do, what do I do? _

Then, Sky is there, sweeping into the throbbing argument like a cool breeze. Time drifts back, away from the situation, as Sky pulls it out of his grasp.

“Hey, hey,” Sky says, clasping Wild’s hand in one of his own and Hyrule’s in the other. “You both have valid positions. Right now, though, this conversation isn’t going to amount to much more than insults.”

Time drifts back to his tree, the conversation fading into ambiance behind him. His face is warm; he stares at the ground. He slumps to a seat at the tree’s base. Sighing, he rests his chin on his arms. 

_ Dear Malon,  _ he writes in his head.  _ What am I doing wrong?  _ He runs his hand down his scarred-over eye.  _ How is it so easy for him? _

His stomach twists, and he berates himself. It shouldn’t matter who solved the problem as long as the problem was solved. Still, the situation chafes at him, and he isn’t sure why.

“Hey.”

Time looks up to see Wild standing over him, staring at the ground somewhere to Time’s left. “Yes?”

“Sorry about earlier,” he says. “You, ah- you wanna come with me to get some stuff for dinner? The sun’s about to set, and there’s a really cool view near here. Plus…” he hesitates. “There was something I wanted to talk with you about.” 

The sun  _ is _ about to set; Time can see its golden rays filtering through the trees, casting long shadows across camp.

“Don’t you usually go with…” Time trails off, realizing his mistake. Across the clearing, Hyrule sits next to Sky, eyes red-rimmed and arms wrapped around his knees, legs pulled to his chest. 

“Alright,” Time decides. “I’ll come with you.” Maybe he can still help somehow. He pushes against the tree trunk he’s leaned against, his bones popping as he stands and grabs his bag, clipping it to his belt. “Where are we headed?”

Wild turns to the east, motioning vaguely out of camp. “There’s a nice cliff over that way with one of the best views of Hyrule Field in the kingdom. Well, one of the best that isn’t a literal mountain peak.”

Time smiles. “Lead the way.”

* * *

“So, what are we looking for?” Time asks as the two walk through the trees. “Mushrooms?” 

“No, but we should totally pick some up. I ran out yesterday.” Wild grins. “On the way back, though. I wanna catch the sunset tonight, and we’re almost there.”

Emerging from the tree line, Time stops with a gasp, staring at the land before him, bathed in molten gold. A worn path sweeps down the hillside, ruins scattered near the bottom. The path continues upwards, climbing its way to the top of the cliff to Time’s right. The sun is just beginning to brush the horizon, and its light bleeds across the edge of Hyrule to their back, spilling over the lip of the land and staining everything a brilliant ruby-red grapefruit. 

Wild doesn’t stall at the view, heading straight for the path up the cliffside. Time follows Wild, past a stump with an old ax in it, past a little rocky overhang with the remains of a campfire inside, past a small copse of pine trees, until they reach the top, a peninsula of a cliff jutting out over the Forest of Spirits. Another cliff soars above them, shrouded in needly coniferous trees, but Wild is clearly done climbing, sitting down at the edge. He swings his legs off the side and beckons Time over. Time sits beside him, staring down at the treetops far beneath his feet. The leaves toss in the wind, rustling. They’re too far for Time to hear, silent, distant. Despite his current deafness to their song, he knows the tune, and it echoes so loudly in his memory that he can almost hear it now.

From here, the sunset is bright and glimmering, a flare of piercing gold. The light seeps through a hole in a great snowcapped mountain’s peak, glinting and burning against the ice. Time wonders if Wild ever knew the story behind that gaping wound, and if he did, if he still does today.

“We’re on the Great Plateau,” Wild says, staring straight ahead. Time follows his gaze, and finds the epicenter of the sunset, the place where the light of day and the budding darkness meet, swirling together into muddy denim-blue above the ruined spire of what could only be Hyrule Castle. For a moment, Time lets the view swallow him up. He breathes. The air smells fresh, like rain and tree sap and life.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“Oh.” Wild looks suddenly uncomfortable, gaze still fixed on the sky. “Yeah. Uh.” He clears his throat.

“Take your time.”

Wild huffs out a laugh. “Yeah. I mean- I wanted to ask…” He takes a deep breath. “You’re from way before me, right? At least, we think. Have you ever heard any legends or myths… or whatever… about a hero who failed?”

Time frowns, his stomach twisting uncomfortably. “No. Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know, I just-” he hesitates. “I’d never heard any and- I guess, I wanted to- I was just curious.”

Time’s frown deepens. “This isn’t about what happened to you, is it Wild? You do realize you can’t be held responsible for-”

“I know, I know, I just-” Wild sighs. “Forget it. Sorry I even asked.”

Time starts to say something, reaching out to place his hand on Wild’s shoulder, but the words grow thick and heavy in his throat and his fingers stall.  _ I shouldn’t press him. But he clearly needs to talk about something, and he came to  _ me _! _ He suppresses a groan.  _ How is Malon so good at this? _

The air is cooling with the sunset, the day’s warmth melting into sticky humidity. A mosquito buzzes past his ear, and he swats at it, only for another to take its place. He hisses as he feels a prick on his arm, slapping at the bug. Something tickles the back of his hand. He checks it, only to find nothing there. Time may have grown up in the forest, but even prolonged exposure can’t dull the inherent annoyance of mosquitoes.

Time growls. “It might be wise-” He slaps his cheek, and his palm comes away speckled with something dark. He scowls. “Should we just go back to camp?” Screw it. If Wild wants to talk with him, he’ll have to pick someplace less buggy. Also, Time still has no idea what to say.  _ So much for helping. _

“What? Why?” Wild is still staring at the sunset. “I don’t see any reason to-” Wild turns to look at Time, eyes growing round and bewildered, noting the swarm of bugs for the first time. “-oh.” 

“The fire should get them off us-” Time smacks one on his forearm, wincing at the smear of blood it leaves behind. “ _ Damn _ ,” he mutters, then pauses, looking up at Wild. “...Are you not getting bitten?”

“Are they-” Wild swallows. His face is horrified, eyes wide and fearful. “Are they  _ eating _ you?”

Time frowns. “…Yes?” He swats a mosquito out of his face. “They eat blood. Have you never been bitten by a mosquito before?”

Wild’s eyes are huge, and he looks nauseous. “That’s  _ horrid- _ Hylia, are you going to be okay? Oh, goddesses- here, wait- er, you said fire? They’re weak to fire? I think I have something-” He unhooks his Sheikah Slate. “Oh, shit-”

“Wild!” Time says. “I’m fine. It’s fine.” He grabs Wild’s forearms, trying to calm the other hero, whose breath is coming in quick gasps. “Mosquitoes are harmless.” He rubs at the bug bite on his arm, now nothing more than a tiny red dot, not yet swollen into its inevitable itchy glory. “You see?”

“But-” Wild shakes his head, almost as though he’s trying to ground himself. “They’re  _ eating your blood-  _ Ah! There’s- There’s-” Wild is staring at a spot on Time’s face, eyes round. When Time claps his hand over his nose, his palm comes away stained red, and Wild sighs. 

“They’re more of an annoyance than anything,” Time says as Wild flicks through his Slate, pulling out a bundle of wood and a piece of flint. “The only real threat is a persistent itch.”

“I’m lighting a fire anyways,” Wild says. An unnecessarily large sword takes form in his hands, and he strikes the flint. Sparks fly, setting the bundle of wood alight. Smoke clouds the air above the growing flames. Time swats away the last of the insects.

“Have you seriously never been bitten?” Time asks, watching the leaves toss beneath his feet. The sun has sunk most of the way beneath the horizon, and the world is cast in that strange, dim shade before nightfall where the shadows blur together. The firelight flickers warm and sharp against Wild’s face as he answers.

“No?” he says, brow creased. “I don’t remember ever…” He trails off, eyes growing distant.

“Hey.” Time waves his hand in front of the other hero’s face. “You there?”

“Huh?” He blinks. “Yeah, I’m still here.” 

“Okay.” Time frowns, watching the flames from Wild’s impromptu campfire flicker and dance. “I suppose it could have something to do with your blood type…”

“What?” Wild looks over at him.

“I’ve heard somewhere that mosquitoes like certain people’s blood more than others’, though I can’t verify.”

“Oh, okay.” Wild sighs. “That’s probably it.”

Time stands, turning away from the cliff’s edge. “Well, we’d better go. The others might start looking for us soon. You know how they get when they haven’t been fed.”

Wild nods, huffing at the halfhearted joke, and lights a torch. He starts down the hill. Time follows, leaving their little fire flickering atop the cliff. The night has come on fully now, and though the path is lit by the half moon rising in the sky as well as Wild’s torch, Time’s tread is careful.

They’ve almost reached the Forest of Spirits, Wild turning off the path to follow the cliff face into the woods, when Time sees something glowing in a copse of trees a ways away.  _ Another shrine?  _ he thinks. Or… 

He looks ahead, where Wild continues on. He doesn’t seem to notice that Time has fallen behind. He also doesn’t notice when Time slips away, heading towards the copse of trees.  _ I’ll be fast. _

As he approaches the trees, the faint, bluish glow resolves itself into the shape of a flower. Its shimmery light seems to be reflecting off of something else. Time squints. It’s white, curved…

He slips between two trees and stops with a gasp. Before him lies a skeleton. Its ribs are like stark ivory stalagmites, worn, curved edges brushed by the greenery rooted around it. Grasses and ferns and wildflowers twine around bone, green against white, life against death. Its eye sockets, empty and dark, stare towards the sky. In its ribcage, an ethereal lily blooms, cerulean petals unfurled where one’s heart should lie. Its light casts the shadows of its cage long against the ground. 

Time shudders, backing up.  _ Who- _

A stick snaps behind him, and he whirls around to see Wild, standing on the path with his torch held high. For a moment, his pale, scarred skin and sunken eyes look ghoulish. Inhuman. 

Time is caught between the skeleton behind him and the apparition before. Wild stares. Time stares back. Neither moves, and Time is holding his breath.

Then, Wild’s stance softens and he sighs, looking at the ground. His hair falls across his face, and the illusion is gone. Time blinks, running a hand down his face.  _ The hell was that?  _

“It looks old,” Time says finally, glancing back at the scattered bones, at the way the flora seems to embrace them. “I wonder what happened?”

Wild moves his shoulders in a half-shrug. “We should head back.”

Wild turns, and without looking to make sure Time follows, disappears into the forest.

As they make their way towards the flickering firelight of camp, Time can’t help but note that they never did get any mushrooms.

* * *

_ There’s blood everywhere. _

That doesn’t make sense!  _ Zelda’s mind screams, but it doesn’t matter if it makes sense because it is, and the only thing to do is to deal with it.  _

It doesn’t make sense _ , she insists to herself.  _ I’ve studied the guardians. Their lasers are searing hot; his wounds should have been cauterized-

_ The guardians are gone; at least, the ones nearby. Silent. Empty. Zelda’s prayer gown is ruined, stained seeping crimson, hot, sticky, impossible. There’s blood everywhere. _

It doesn’t make sense _ , she insists.  _ It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense.  _ Her hero lies in her arms, shuddering, gasping. His frame feels more fragile than it should, a warrior’s strength reduced to that of a leaf. He bleeds into the grass, eyes pained and glassy, glinting dimly in the light of the embers of malice floating through the air, and it doesn’t make sense at all that he could die here. Not with Ganon still on the loose. Not with the Master Sword in hand. Not in Zelda’s arms, when she has only just awoken her golden power to find herself too late. It doesn’t matter if it makes sense because it is, and the only thing to do is to deal with it.  _

_ There’s blood everywhere. Blood, running down the sacred blade in the wrong direction, staining the green ribbons on the hilt to a muddied mess that matches the toxic smoke clouding the air, pressing in from each side. Blood, seeping through the blue of the Champion’s Tunic. Blood, inexorable, infinite, sticky and tangy, pairing with the scent of smoke in a stifling, iron-tanged blanket. Blood, the only constant left.  _

_ “You’re going to be just fine,” she says to her hero when he looks up at her, heaving for every breath. It’s a mantra she holds close -  _ just fine just fine just fine _ \- for how could her hero die here? How could he, destined for greatness from the start, be the one to leave Zelda alone? How could Zelda face Ganon, Zelda with her crimson-stained fingertips, with her too-late power, borne of death and despair? It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t matter if it makes sense. Her hero takes in a wheezing gasp of air, then falls limp, his eyes sliding shut.  _

No.

_ Zelda presses her face to his chest. It moves, faintly. Uneven, even as she sobs into the fabric of his shirt. _

No no no no no-

_ She gathers her hero tighter in her arms, his skin cold, wet from the rain. The rain that stains her face anew.  _

No, no, no-

_ She doesn’t think it possible, the world nothing but a smoke-stained nightmare. Her fingers are numb from the rain. She is numb. She can’t tell if her arms are shaking from holding up her hero or from the shuddering shock that wracks her body. There’s a hole in her stomach, gaping, and she squints her eyes shut, wishing she could fade away. _

_ Then, there’s a chime, and Zelda raises her head. _

_ The sword, dripping crimson onto rain-drenched grass, onto ash and charcoal, is glowing, pulsating. For a moment, Zelda can do nothing but stare in shock. _

_ “The sword…?” Zelda’s voice is weak, ragged, as she stares at the blade’s silver light. “So he can… so he can still be saved?” _

The Shrine! _ she realizes. There’s a swell of hope in her chest, hot and prickly, that tastes remarkably like fear. With it, her numb agony gives way to numb resignation. She’s preparing to lift her hero from the ground when there’s a shout. _

_ “Princess!”  _

_ Two Sheikah soldiers, leaping from ruined guardian to guardian, rush across the field to her. They stop before her, kneeling. “Princess! Are you alright?” one says. _

_ “Take Link to the Shrine of Resurrection,” she commands. “If you don’t get him there immediately, we are going to lose him forever! Is that clear?” _

_ The soldiers nod, determination shining in their eyes. _

_ “So make haste, and go!” Zelda’s mind has come back to life, mapping out scenarios, plans, failsafes. “His life is now in your hands!” _

_ The Sheikah lift the hero from her arms. As they rush across the sodden, smoky field, Zelda stands, clutching the hilt of the Master Sword in her hand. She squares herself, ignoring the tears, the raindrops, streaming down her face, ignoring the crimson blooming bright and muddy across the white fabric of her gown, ignoring the fatigue weighing deep and heavy on every breath, and leaves, disappearing into the smoke. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flashback dialogue was taken straight from the final memory in Breath of the Wild. If you think it’s badly written, blame Nintendo   
> If you think about it, mosquitos are freaky af


	2. Wrap and Cover

“I’m not scared,” Sky says. “It’s just… the start of a new chapter.”

Legend raises an eyebrow. “You mean the start of oblivion?” 

“Legend,” Twilight warns. “Let’s try to keep the existential dread to a minimum.”

“Then why,” he challenges, “are we even having this conversation in the first place?”

After a mushroomless dinner, the heroes are talking about death. Time hasn’t said anything either way; his feelings on the issue stem from the moon’s grotesque grin and waking up again, again, again, and are a little too complex to articulate. 

The Links are arranged in a loose circle around the flickering campfire. Apparently, Sky’s strong-armed lesson in conflict resolution paid off: Hyrule doesn’t look upset, and Wild has been only the usual amount of distracted. 

“Because Four enjoys asking difficult questions and then watching us struggle,” Warriors says dryly. 

Four snorts. “I was interested to know your guys’ thoughts,” he says. The crumbling wall he sits atop is just a bit too tall for him, his feet dangling above the ground. He’s capitalizing on this, swinging his legs. 

“Yeah, interested to watch us flail under the crushing weight of our mortality,” Warriors replies.

“Ooh,” Wind grins. “Eloquent!”

“ _ Actually _ ,” Four says, “I was intrigued as to how our different cultures and experiences have affected our views of death.”

“That’s fair,” Time says. 

“…Watching you flail was just a bonus.”

“HA!” Warriors points a wild finger at Four, who only smirks, crossing his legs under him atop the wall. “I knew it, you little shit!”

“Well?” Four asks. “What’s your answer? Are you scared of the great unknown?”

“Are you kidding?” Warriors strikes a dramatic pose, hands on his hips. “I’m a hero of courage! Fear? What am I supposed to do with something like that?”

“What about you, Wild?” Hyrule asks, breaking through Legend’s derisive snickering. 

“Huh?” Wild tilts his head from where he’s serving Twilight his third bowl. 

“You’ve been quiet. You don’t have to answer, if you don’t want to… It’s just, Four was talking about unique perspective, and I can’t think of anyone more-”

“It’s fine,” Wild says. “I…” He trails off, his spoon stalling in the pot of meat and veggies. He stares into the food like it holds his response. 

“Wild?” Time raises an eyebrow. 

“I-” Wild shakes himself. “Yeah, yeah, sorry. I’m not afraid!” He tops off Twilight’s bowl and hands it to the concerned-looking hero with a sloppy grin. “You’ve seen it once, you’ve seen it all. I’m not scared of the end. Just glad I’m still here, y’know?” 

Twilight sits back down next to Time. Wild follows suit, silent. Camp lapses into silence. Twilight is gazing at the bowl he holds in his lap, face tense. Wild is staring at the grass, picking at the bark of the log he sits on. Sky, perched between them, looks supremely uncomfortable.

“Holy shit!” Wind says. “This entire conversation has been depressing! Let’s just talk about something else, for the love of Nayru!”

Hyrule lets out a sharp bark of laughter, startling everyone. “Yeah, Four!” He knocks shoulders with the short hero, maybe a bit harder than he intended. Four, startled, is left scrabbling at the stone in a desperate attempt to remain perched atop the wall. With one great flail, he falls, landing backwards on the ground. 

Wind bursts into laughter and the rest of camp quickly follows. Hyrule’s harried, laughter-filled apologies are drowned out as Four picks himself up. Time chuckles as Four himself tries and fails to hold back laughter, brushing off his tunic. 

“I think we’ve got our new conversation topic.” Legend smirks. 

Four settles back atop the wall. “As if making fun of people is better than discussing death!” He puts a hand to his mouth, feigning drama. “Oh, my spine!” 

Time snorts. “You should get that checked out.” 

“Yeah,  _ Four _ .” Warriors grins. “It could be  _ fatal _ . What was your answer to that question again?”

“Hey,” Sky protests. “I thought we said we weren’t talking about this anymore!”

Twilight grins. “I thought you wanted to talk about something else, Warriors!”

“Oh, come on,” Warriors says. 

“You walked into that one, man.” Legend pats him on the head. “Did we hurt your feelings?”

_ Twang _ .

Time barely has time to so much as flinch before Wild is knocked from his seat with a strangled gasp. He lands hard on the dirt in the middle of camp and the heroes shoot to their feet, weapons drawn. There’s an arrow sticking out of Wild’s back, and as the champion pushes himself upright on trembling arms, Time glimpses the growing pool of blood beneath Wild’s form.

The dirt is stained a shimmering cerulean. 

Time is torn from his transfixed shock by the blaring of a bokoblin’s horn. Blins, chus, monsters from all eras pour into the camp, and Time throws his shield up just in time to block a tirade of arrows that descend from the sky. 

“What the fuck?” Wind shouts from across camp. “I thought you said this place was  _ tame _ !”

_ Shit _ . Time almost fumbles his shield while grabbing his sword. 

A lizalfos darts up to him. He slays it with a slash across the chest, craning his neck to check on the other heroes. 

“Someone take care of the archers!” he yells. He’s too far himself, with too many monsters in between him and the creatures holding their lopsided bows, but he can see Warriors and Four begin to cut their way over and that’s good because he can’t hold a shield and the Biggoron Sword at the same time and then he can’t think about that anymore because he’s barely dodged the wide sweep of a lizalfos’ tail and there’s even more behind it.

He stumbles, boot slipping in the dirt. Then, he launches forward, slicing cleanly through the scaly skin. The lizalfos screeches. Time slices open its throat and leaves it bleeding out on the ground. He whirls around to block another’s attack, slicing the spearhead off its spear. A bokoblin behind him begins to swing its club in wild circles. He leaps back, ducking under the now-spearless lizalfos’ outstretched tongue. He stabs upwards, catching the lizalfos through the bottom of its skull. He turns back to the bokoblin. The pig has stopped its harried swinging, dizzy. With one hit, Time breaks its neck. His claymore crunches against the bone and sends up a spray of smoky black blood. 

Time looks around. No monster approaches him. The few that aren’t already corpses on the dusty ground are being finished off by his boys. Hyrule kneels over Wild, hands glowing.  _ No watch for Hyrule tonight _ , Time notes with a huff of not-quite-laughter. Hyrule would protest, but Legend would enforce. 

Time jogs over to the pair on the ground. Careful to avoid the bloody arrow discarded nearby, he kneels down beside them. Questions are buzzing under his skin, thrumming at the back of his throat, but he keeps them down with some effort.  _ Patience, Link _ , he tells himself.  _ Answers will come in time. For now… _

“Are you two alright?” he asks, and Hyrule looks up. His face is pale, but his gaze focuses normally. Time takes that as a good sign.

“He’ll be fine,” Hyrule says. 

Wild doesn’t look fine, despite the fact that Time has seen him walk off worse injuries. His skin, already paper-white, can’t pale much further, but his eyes are wide, and his breaths come in short gasps. He locks eyes with Time and jolts back from Hyrule’s touch with a sharp choking sound. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispers, scrambling backwards. He can’t seem to keep eye contact, gaze snapping to the blue-stained ground. He grabs at his wounded shoulder, swallowing hard. “I should have said something, I- I-” The wound, only mostly healed, drips blood. It shimmers where it rolls down Wild’s fingers. 

“What do you mean?” Time asks, tilting his head and keeping his voice soft. “Wild, it’s alright. You’re safe. I’m not upset.”

“You-” Wild’s jaw works. “You don’t- I can’t- I should have never pretended…”

“Hey, Wild!” Legend walks up behind Time, the beginnings of trouble in his eyes. “Lookin’ shiny! What, is blue blood in fashion right now, or something?”

Wild makes another strangled sound, and Legend’s eyes widen. 

“Woah, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. You okay?”

Wild isn’t looking at Legend. Wild is grabbing his slate from where it fell on the ground and clipping it to his belt. He scrambles to his feet, glancing back at Time’s shocked face, eyes wide with something between hope and fear. There are words to fix this, words to fix this right now. But with their gazes locked, Time remembers last night, remembers the sight of Wild’s ghoulish face in the firelight. Anything he might have said shrivels and crumbles in the back of his throat, and Wild’s face falls. He turns and runs. Time bites back nauseous regret as the hero disappears into the trees. 

“I should go after him,” Twilight says, walking up, face grim.

Time blinks, tearing his gaze away from the place Wild vanished. He swallows past the lump in his throat, swallows the voice that says he should have said something, and looks up at his protege. “He may just need space,” he says. “We shouldn’t-”

“Hey!” Wind calls from across the wrecked campsite. “Sky’s hurt!” 

Sky is crumpled on the ground next to Wind, struggling to push himself upright and clutching his midsection. Hyrule stumbles to his feet, but Time grabs the hem of his tunic. 

“What?” He looks down at Time, frowning. “Time, I’m fine. Let me help him.”

“No.” Legend gives him a flat glare, already digging through his own bag for medical supplies. “We have plenty of potions. You use any more magic and we won’t be back on the road until sundown tomorrow.”

Hyrule, already knowing he’s lost this particular argument, huffs and sits back down. 

“We should stay here for the night,” Twilight says. “Rest up, give Wild time to compose himself and come back. If he hasn’t returned, we look for him in the morning.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Time concedes. “Everyone, get some rest,” he calls. “Tomorrow, one way or another, we’re heading out.” 

* * *

_ Link dismounts from Epona, breathless, as the wind starts to pick up. The oppressive humidity that has been fogging his mind for the better part of the year begins to clear as the swirling clouds above his head disperse. The angry overcast fades away, leaving behind shades of gray and blue and sunlight. Birds twitter and chirp in the distance. Link sighs. He pats the flank of his horse and turns. _

_ Behind him, amid the swaying grasses and wildflowers, stands Zelda, hands still clasped in front of her. The Triforce has gone dark, quiet, and she smiles at him, just ever so slightly. Her prayer gown is in tatters and she’s smudged and scratched and bruised but Link has never been happier to see someone, never thought anyone looked as gorgeous as Zelda does.  _

_ “I’ve been keeping watch over you all this time,” she begins, voice soft, and Link stills, breath catching. Had she seen…? _

_ “I’ve witnessed your struggles to return to us as well as your trials in battle. Link…” she hesitates, then, and Link’s stomach churns. He can’t make out the emotion on her face. He can see it and he knows it’s not good but he can’t tell what it is and his legs are tense, ready to sprint, even though he knows he can’t just leave her here. She is all he has left. Hylia, she’s all he has left! What will he do if she decides she never wants to be near him?  _

I could stay with Sidon _ , his brain supplies. Sidon is always an option, he made that plenty clear, but Zelda is everything, everything he worked towards for so long.  _ She thinks I’m a monster.  _ His knees are weak and his face is hot and his eyes are prickling and he’s about to leave, hop onto Epona and ride to who-knows-where, when Zelda starts to speak again. _

_ “Link, I’m so sorry.” Her voice is fragile, her eyes are wet. She covers her mouth with both hands. “I’m so sorry, I never meant for it to turn out like this, I-” Her tears overflow, and she rushes forward with a sob, wrapping Link in a tight embrace. She’s warm, is what he notices first. He doesn’t remember ever having such a warm hug in his life. The rest of his brain is still catching up to the fact that he is being hugged. It takes him a minute to work past the shock enough to hug her back. _

_ “I always thought - no, I always believed - that you would find a way to defeat Ganon,” she says. “I never lost faith in you over these many years…” She chokes back another sob. Her voice, in his ear, is barely more than a whisper. “Thank you, Link… the Hero of Hyrule. And I’m so, so sorry for what happened.” _

_ “You-” he manages, his eyes prickling, wet. “You know? And you’re not-” _

_ She pulls away, holding his hands and staring into his eyes. “How could I ever?” She breathes. “Did you think I would- Oh, Link. I’m so happy you’re here. I’m upset about what happened to you- I could never think less of you for it.” _

_ Finally, finally, Link lets the tears spill, and Zelda hugs him again, warm and real and alive, and he collapses into her embrace, letting himself be held. There, in the empty, sun-soaked field, Link feels found for the first time he can remember.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Portions of Zelda’s dialogue are taken directly from one of the ending cutscenes of Breath of the Wild.


	3. Bones, Blossoms, Bridges

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for vague suicide mention

When morning arrives with no trace of Wild, the heroes prepare to set off. Hyrule makes breakfast, and as far as he knows, everyone eats their fill. Time catches sight of multiple heroes emptying their bowls when Hyrule isn’t looking and resigns himself to a morning of hunger-induced squabbling.

Hyrule doesn’t seem to be focusing that much on breakfast, though. “Won’t Wild come find us when he’s ready to come back?” he asks as the heroes eat. 

“We’re in his Hyrule; he’s kind of our guide. We  _ need _ him,” Wind points out, right as Twilight says “We should make sure he’s okay.”

Hyrule nods, but he’s still frowning, staring down into his bowl of probably-made-with-the-intent-of-being-oatmeal like it holds answers or secrets or something other than burnt sludge. 

Breakfast concludes in silence. Time isn’t sure whether or not any food was actually consumed; Hyrule is the only one who has ever willfully consumed his concoctions and he didn’t touch his spoon the whole time. As the heroes pack up camp, Hyrule stashing the spare dishes in his bag without washing them (Time is suddenly very glad he hadn’t eaten anything out of his), Twilight excuses himself. A few minutes later, he returns as Wolfie, and the heroes set off, following Wild’s scent.

The trail twists and twines across the plateau, a meandering route that veers out and around the Forest of Spirits. It may just be a coincidence, but Time can’t help but note, as they trek across the plateau, that this also means the path avoids the skeleton from the night before. The curiosity burns under his skin, needling at his eyes, sending his gaze roaming across his surroundings in search of some other clue. 

The scent cuts off at the edge of the plateau. Getting off the Great Plateau is a challenge that takes all morning and a significant chunk of the afternoon, but the Links manage it eventually, scaling down the sheer stone wall with hookshots, hookshot equivalents, and determination.

The decision to take a late lunch break is unanimous. They’ve come down amid a cluster of ruins. A brick-red moblin patrols the crumbled walls a ways away, far enough that the nearsighted creature doesn’t stand a chance at spotting them. 

Time eases himself down to sit on a large chunk of stone. To his right, he can see Warriors sharing jerky with Sky. Twilight, still a wolf, is curled atop the cracked cobblestones. Four leans up against his side, cutting an apple into slices and intermittently offering one to Twilight. Hyrule and Legend are leaned against a decrepit wall, Legend scribbling in a journal. Hyrule seems to be reveling in the moment, eyes to the sky. 

Wind plonks his bag on the ground, grabbing a packet of what looks like jerky but is probably actually some other sailor food that Time would rather not try. He sits down next to Time, grinning, and tears into the maybe-edible substance. 

“Ou ant um?” He asks, mouth full, as he waves a stick of the stuff in Time’s direction. Time hides a grimace. 

“No, thank you,” he says, digging through his bag for some of his own jerky.

“So,” Wind starts once he’s swallowed his mouthful, staring off at the horizon. He wears an uncharacteristically serious expression. “What do you think was up with Wild? With the… with the blue?”

“I don’t know,” Time admits, “but when we find him, it’d be wise not to bring it up unless he talks about it first.” 

“Duh,” Wind says, tearing off a huge bite of stuff. 

After that, they eat in silence, Time examining the crumbling walls in an attempt to decipher what they once were. He finds the bottom of his jerky bag faster than he expected, and tucks the cloth pouch back into his bag. Wind, finished with his lunch, hops up and runs off into the ruins. 

Time huffs out a laugh. The kid’s energetic, that’s for sure. For a moment, Time misses the days when he could run around like that, when his bones didn’t throb and ache. Then he remembers a ruined Hyrule, the crippling solitude, the way it fe _ lt to be crushed by the moon-  _

Time is perfectly happy where he is. 

He exhales, watching the boys he’s grown so close to, and lets the soft buzz of their conversation wash over him.  _ Everything is alright.  _

Or, it will be, once Wild is back. Once Time’s corrected his stupid mistakes.

“Hey!” Wind’s voice rings out. Time looks over to where he stands just past a collapsing archway. “You guys might wanna see this!”

Time heaves himself to his feet with a sigh. He makes his way over to Wind, the other heroes getting up and tucking away their snacks to follow. Wind leads them deeper into the ruins, picking his way along a half-ruined pathway. Some part of Time is sickeningly sure he knows what Wind’s found. Then, they round the corner, and Time’s vague hopes of being wrong are dashed. 

Ahead of them, half-buried in rubble, lies a skeleton. Despite fact that the ground is mostly chunks of rocks and not at all dirt, a lily blooms in the ribcage, a starburst of blue and white. In the light of the afternoon sun, the bones seem to glint, shimmering with a faint bluish sheen. Time blinks, and the illusion vanishes. Only half-hearing the confused exclamations of the other Links, he frowns, squinting.

“Another one?” Time whispers. Legend, standing next to him, glances over.

“Another?” he asks. “You’ve seen something like this before?”

“Last night,” Time says. “In the woods, on the plateau. The flower was glowing in the dark. I asked Wild about it. He…” Time frowns. “He seemed uncomfortable, so I dropped the matter.”

Hyrule hums, still staring at the flower. “I wonder who it was…” 

“That’s a morbid train of thought,” Sky says.

Legend snorts. “Yeah. What is it with us and death these days?”

Wind crouches beside the skeleton, experimentally lifting the hand off the ground. Time almost laughs as Twilight chokes on air. 

“Wind!” Twilight says. “What are you doing?”

Wind’s brow scrunches. “It’s so light…”

“You don’t just…” Twilight pulls Wind to his feet. “You can’t just…”

Wind isn’t looking at Twilight. “I’m  _ pretty _ sure bones aren’t supposed to be that light.”

“That’s…  _ odd _ . All of this is odd.” Time frowns, staring down at the bones. The light plays off them unnaturally, snow-white glinting with a filmy blue sheen. “It may be wise to keep an eye on these. Whatever it is that upset Wild enough to leave… whatever it was that happened with the other skeleton… I fear it may be connected.”

“Woah, hold on,” Four interjects, putting his hands up. “This feels like a gross invasion of privacy.”

“He has every right to his secrets,” Legend agrees from the back of the group. He’s examining his fingernails, but there’s a sharpness to his eyes. “Four has a good point.”

“What happened last night was dangerous.” Warriors turns to face him. “It’d be one thing if this were a neat little secret that kept itself tidy. But this…” He frowned. “We know nothing, and it doesn’t seem like Wild’s all that willing to tell us about it. If this is going to be a danger to us or him in battle, we should know what’s going on.”

“You could at least have the decency to ask him in person!” Legend fixes his gaze on Warriors, dropping all pretenses of disinterest. “You know, instead of unraveling some other issue that’s probably both personal and  _ unrelated _ behind his back!”

“Can we please keep going?” Sky interjects, cutting off Warriors before he can get out his fiery rebuttal. Sky’s eyes are fixed on the skeleton, gaze sad. “This isn’t… I don’t…”

“Sky? You doing okay?” Hyrule asks. The health potions reduced Sky’s injury to a much smaller cut, but it needed a couple of stitches. “Are you sure you don’t need more time to rest? We can go back to where we had lunch.”

“I’ll be fine.” Sky sighs, turning away. “Let’s just go.”

* * *

Everything is stained in darkening shades of crimson and rosy orange, the shadows long. The ruins of what may have been a village thin out as the heroes approach a fork in the road, falling away in favor of short grass and rocky hills. According to Twilight, Wild’s scent continues to the right, but that path is dark and wild and curves out of sight behind a hill, and Time knows they need to set up camp for the night soon. The left is more promising. Lamps flicker atop what looks like a bridge. Time can make out a small, blocky house nearby, along with the blue glow of what Time assumes to be a shrine. Possible shelter, a scrap of civilization, and maybe a local to answer a few of their questions- sounds like the path to take. 

Time voices this, and Warriors nods in agreement. Left it is.

When the heroes reach the bridge, there’s a man walking towards the house. He carries an old but well-polished spear, and wears minimal armor. Out of the corner of his eye, Time catches Four looking it over, frowning. It’s not in the best shape.

“Hello, travelers!” the man says, stopping to wave to them. “What brings you here? Can I help you?” If he’s put off by their intimidating appearance, he doesn’t show it.

“What are you doing out here?” Wind asks. 

Time raises an eyebrow, ready to apologize for Wind’s brashness if need be, but the man just smiles. 

“I’m Brigo,” he says. “I’m patrolling- same as I have for years. Proxim Bridge is an important route. I make sure monsters stay away.” Brigo grins. “Is there anything you need? Directions?” 

“We’re looking for a friend of ours,” Twilight says. “He’s short-ish, long blond hair, heavily scarred, goes by Link?”

“Link?” Brigo says. “Of course I know him! Sweet kid. Recently he’s always been travelin’ with that little friend of his. Those two came by a while ago. They gave me this armor and commissioned some guy to build a house for me out here, sayin’ they’re trying to make trade routes safe again. Great kids, really. I haven’t seen either of them since then. I’ll keep an eye out, though,” Brigo says. “Anything else? If you need someplace to stay… I mean, I don’t know that there’s room-” 

“Thank you,” Time says, “but we’ll be alright. May I ask one more thing? What do you know of the skeletons with the lilies inside?” 

Brigo’s amicable grin falls of his face, his face paling. “The Blue Lily…” he whispers. “Why are you asking about the Blue Lily?”

Time, not expecting such a shift in demeanor, swallows hard, searching for words. 

“We’re curious,” Wind butts in. “We saw one earlier, and we want to know what they are.”

“You don’t want to be curious about the Blue Lily,” Brigo warns. “Those skeletons… I don’t know where they came from.” He shudders. “I’ve never seen the Lily on its own. I’ve asked travelers about them before. No one can agree on what they are, why they’re there… an omen of death, that’s what I say. My advice is to stay away from that mystery. Your life is too valuable for you to lose it screwing around with things like that, things you can’t understand.” He looks up from where his burning gaze has landed on the ground, and smiles thinly. “You sure you don’t need a place to stay?”

“Yes,” Time says, already turning the man’s words over in his head. “Thank you, again, for the offer. It doesn’t look like you have much room to spare. We’ll be fine.”

“Glad to hear it,” Brigo says. “If you do end up wanting someplace to rest tonight, my old shelter is just on the opposite side of the bride. ‘S better than sleeping out in the open, at least!”

“Actually, I think we may take you up on that.” Time smiles. “Thank you of all of your help.”

“Safe travels.”

“And to you,” Time says with a nod.

“A mystery!” Wind whispers as they walk away, nearly vibrating. Warriors ruffles his hair.

The fire they build on the riverside is small, dinner simple and only slightly charred. As Time digs into his kebab of green mushrooms, scavenged from next to the bridge, he notes that Four hasn’t taken a bite. The hero stares down at his stick, glaring at the mushrooms’ glossy caps. The food is better than expected in Wild’s absence; there’s no way dinner put that look on his face.

“Four?” Time says. “Is something wrong?”

“Huh?” He looks up from his mushrooms, blinking. “Oh. Yeah, I guess. We already talked, but…” He curls his lip. “All this snooping really doesn’t feel right.”

“Oh, come on. Aren’t you curious?” Wind says, tearing off a bite of mushroom.

“If we  _ asked _ , Wild might tell us,” Four points out.

“I dunno…” Hyrule says. “I don’t think Wild was gonna tell us, and this secret seemed pretty dangerous. Remember that cut he had? He wouldn’t even let me look at it. I don’t know if he cleaned it correctly.” He pauses. “But this whole tracking-him-down thing does seem a little iffy. He seemed pretty upset, and if he needs his space then he should get his space. You know?”

“We don’t have time to wait,” Warriors snaps. “We need Wild back, and we need to save the world. It’s fine that he’s upset but we need to confront it, not let it fester.”

“He would have found us again by now if he were coming back,” Twilight agrees. “Leaving for this long… what if he’s in trouble?”

“We should make sure he’s okay. If he’s in over his head…” Sky shudders. “I don’t want to be too late.”

“What if he’s not?” Four says. “What if we only make everything worse by tearing his past open without him even knowing?”

“What if we make everything worse by not knowing?” Warriors frowns. “There’s clearly something wrong, something dangerous, to send him in such a panic that he leaves for so long. If he comes back, if he tells us what’s wrong-”

“He’s already told us a shit ton!” Legend says. “What, you need his entire life story?”

“That’s not what I’m saying! If we end up in a difficult situation, we need to be able to make an informed decision!” 

“Then why don’t we just  _ ask _ him?” Legend growls. “Are you sure you don’t just not trust him? That the problem isn’t that you just don’t feel safe working with someone you don’t understand? He’s not the only one with dangerous secrets, you know. If you don’t trust him, then you sure as  _ hell _ shouldn’t trust me!”

Warriors looks taken aback, forgotten kebab grasped limply in his hand. “Do-” he starts, but Legend cuts him off with a finger jabbed between his eyes.

“ _ No _ .” Legend seethes. “No, I’m not sharing my secrets. They’re mine to keep. Wild’s secrets are Wild’s to keep, and I will not help you unearth them.”

“Legend,” Time says. “Calm down.”

“They’re not his to keep if they endanger the entire team!” Warriors snarls, jabbing his own kebab back at him. “And if you have something we should know about, then you’d better tell us before someone gets hurt!”

“ _ Warriors _ !” Time hisses. “You both need to-”

“Are you fucking  _ kidding _ me?” Legend’s eyes glint with half-restrained anger. “Like I’d tell you  _ anything _ ! I can see why Wild hasn’t spilled. Like I’d ever want to share my deepest fucking regrets with an asshole who doesn’t even have the dignity to wait for me to tell him myself!”

_ What the hell?  _ “Boys!” Time scolds. “By Hylia-”

“ _ Asshole _ ?” Warriors recoils “ _ I’m _ the asshole here? What, do you want someone to  _ die _ because you couldn’t swallow your pride?”

“It’s not  _ pride _ , it’s basic fucking privacy! Did you not have that in the war? Were soldiers not allowed their own lives? Were secrets unacceptable under your command, oh great and wise Captain Link?”

“ _ Stop!”  _ Time thunders, and they both fall silent.

Time takes in their wide-eyed stares - their faces are flushed, Legend’s mouth hangs open, just a little, and Warriors’ eyes are hard like he’s bracing himself for a lecture - and deflates. “Just… stop. Please,” he says, rubbing his forehead, his voice more of a rasping whisper than anything. “This is senseless. You’re only hurting each other. There is no purpose in an argument like this.”

Legend opens his mouth as if to speak, lip curling. Time holds up a hand. 

“You’re heroes of Hyrule, not children. Have a civilized discussion or don’t talk at all. Unless either of you is ready to apologize?”

Warriors and Legend look at each other. Legend snarls and Warriors looks away, lip curled derisively. 

No one speaks for the rest of dinner. The tension between Warriors and Legend is palpable, dripping and crackling and thick as both refuse to look in the other’s direction. None of the other Links have it in them to make conversation, apparently, only to eat, silent and solemn-faced. Time is too busy running the conversation over in his mind to say anything.

Even though he’s seated across the fire, Legend and Warriors’ animosity sears against his mind, sitting like a pit in his stomach, heavy and solid and anxious. 

_ What did I do wrong?  _ he eventually finds himself asking, even though he knows the answer is nothing, that their fight isn’t his responsibility, but he knows that there’s pain behind every moment of silence. Time is their leader, as unspoken as that position may be. What good is he as a leader if he can’t hold the group together? Malon would be there to listen to what each had to say, would be able to get them to work through their issues. She’d understand, she’d know how to make them understand…

_ Dear Malon _ , he writes in his head.  _ How do you do it? _

Dinner passes swiftly in the silence, and soon enough, Time is laying in his bedroll, staring up at the wooden slats above his head.  _ Friends always fight,  _ he reasons.  _ They’ll make up eventually. You’re making bosses out of blins.  _ Maybe he can argue himself asleep. He wishes he could see the stars, familiar, steady, bright. The sky here is different, though, from the one he’s used to, shifted and changed over hundreds of thousands of years. Maybe the glimmering light would help him calm down; maybe the unfamiliar pattern wouldn’t help at all. Either way, he’d have something to look at other than worn woodgrain.

He glances to his right, where Proxim Bridge spans the dark river. Sky, first watch, sits on the edge of the bridge, swinging his legs above the moon-glazed water. He had to calm down a panicked Brigo, who ran out his front door with a shout when he first sat there. “I’m just keeping watch,” he had said, and Brigo had still been so concerned, needing to be sure he wasn’t going to hurl himself off the bridge. The man’s words echoed in Time’s head.  _ Promise me you won’t do something rash _ , it said.  _ Your life is too valuable _ . There’s no coming back from something like that. 

Sky had reassured him, but Brigo still looked sad and scared and shaken as he made his way back to his home. 

Time huffs.  _ No coming back…  _ He peers at the words, and sees there a memory of fire, of agony, of standing before the gates to a town he’d seen obliterated. 

He rolls over, burying his face in the fabric of his bedroll and measuring each breath. He needs sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO HOW ABOUT THAT BOTW PREQUEL HUH


	4. Hypothetical History

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate this chapter so much. I hated writing half of it three months ago, I hated staring at it for weeks on end as I tried to figure out how to fix it, I hated the revision process, and I still don’t like it now. But it serves its purpose well enough, I suppose, and I just want to be done with it so I can edit and post chapters five and six. They’re a lot more fun, I promise.  
> Quick warning, as well: Time’s internal dialogue gets really self-depreciating and toxic this chapter. Stay safe!  
> Osteoporosis :)

The next traveler they meet finds them at a fork in the road, at a place where crumbling pillars sprout from the ground like tree trunks.

The man is short and mousy-haired, with good posture Time’s only ever seen from experienced horseback riders. He comes from the left path, his eyes lighting up when he spots the group of eight. At request of his manic waving, they wait for him at the intersection as he jogs over, grinning broadly.

“Hello! My name is Spinch,” he greets after he’s caught his breath. “What brings you around these parts? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen your faces before.”

“We’re from…” Hyrule hesitates. “Not here.”

“We’re looking for a friend,” Warriors says. 

“Oh, yeah?” Spinch raises his eyebrows. “Maybe I could help. I’ve been all over Hyrule.” He makes a broad sweeping motion with his hands, as if to highlight the skyline that’s currently obscured by the forest’s canopy. 

“His name is Link,” Sky says. “He’s blond, he’s got long hair, a blue shirt, lots of scars, good at fighting...”

“I don’t know…” Spinch says, face scrunching up. “Don’t think I… no, wait. I did! Just earlier today. He was on this path, right here, heading that way.” He motions in the direction they came. “Saved me from a couple of bokoblins. Aggressive, those guys. Usually I don’t have much problem defending myself, but ever since they started bleeding black… Ever since...” He shrugs. “If you’re looking for a place to stay, though, there’s a stable nearby. Hardly a walk from where we are now, just down the other path.” Spinch rolls up onto his toes, bouncing ever so slightly. His fingers drum against the strap of his bag. “Anything else you need from me?”

“This stable sounds like a good idea,” Time says. “We can keep looking in the morning.” 

The heroes turn down the right path, the signage labeling it  _ Faron Grasslands _ . Spinch walks up alongside Sky in front of Time and starts making conversation. The man thrums with nervous energy as he speaks, his gaze roaming the tree line.

“I, personally, am here in search of the horse god,” he says, rubbing the leather strap of his bag with his thumb. “Apparently, they can bring your horses back to life. I’m not sure, but I have good reason to believe they’re close to that stable. Amazing, isn’t it?” Spinch rubs his face. “I’ve been chasing this legend ever since I lost the love of my life.”

“Oh!” Sky gasps. “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks,” Spinch replies. “I’ll stop at nothing to bring him back.”

Spinch then begins to regale Sky with stories of his dead horse, also named Spinch. Sky sends Time a nervous look and he has to hold back a chuckle. 

“Spinch,” he hears Wind mutter under his breath from where he walks beside him. “Spinch. Spin-ach.”

Time barely manages to suppress a snort

Just as Spinch said, the stable isn’t far. It’s a strange building, something like a large, circular tent. The giant horse head that tops it off is made of wood and bright, scrappy fabric, and it stares Time down from above, eyes hollow and dark. 

Spinch cuts off his tirade as they approach the stable. “I’ve got a good feeling about those cliffs,” he says, squinting at the array of hills that rise behind the building.

“Well,” Sky says, chuckling nervously and giving an awkward little wave, “We’ll, ah, leave you to it, then. Best of luck to you!”

Eyes fixated on the cliffs, Spinch walks past the stable. Then, he starts to jog, before breaking into a single-minded sprint. Time watches him go, huffing out a laugh. 

“Shouldn’t he wait until morning?” Four mutters. “He’s just going to get lost or hurt in the dark.”

“I…” Sky hesitates. “I don’t think you could convince him.”

Inside the stable, it’s dim and warm. There’s a desk at the front with a man behind it. Time makes his way over as the other Links disperse, his footsteps creaking across the smooth-worn wood. The stable worker looks up as he approaches, setting his pen down atop what looks to be a log or record of some sort. 

“Greetings!” The man grins. “I’m Padok, and welcome to the Highland Stable! Will you be staying with us?”

“Yes,” Time says, “eight beds, please, for me and my companions.”

“That’ll be 200 rupees.” Padok grabs a separate slip of paper from beneath his desk, scratching some figures onto it.

Time sighs and fishes the money out of his pouch, dropping it on the counter. The sound of squabbling drifts over to him from deeper in the stable, and he has to count the money twice, furrowing his brow over the sound of raised voices. 

“What time do you want us to wake you up?” Padok asks, snatching the rupees off the counter.

“Sunrise,” Time says. Legend’s saying something. He sounds irritated, voice raised. “But we should be fine getting up on our own.” He winces at the sound of Warriors’ snappish response. “Before I go, can I ask you some questions?”

“Sure!” Padok says. “I could give you directions, if you need? I know quite a bit about this area.”

“Directions aren’t a problem. What do you know about the blue lilies?” Someone shushes loudly. The sounds of the argument cut off.

“Not from around here?” Padok hums. “I’ve heard all sorts of stories, personally. Respects for dead travelers, that’s what I say. Tales tell of a beautiful goddess, with hair of golden light, who plants the blossoms to commemorate those who died on the road after the Calamity.” He shrugs. “Who knows.”

Time sighs. Padok’s story only conflicts with Brigo’s. Clearly, neither was lying when they said no one had any idea where the flowers came from. It was worth a try, he supposes.

“Also,” he continues, “we’re looking for our friend. A young man, pale skin, long blond hair, lots of scars. He’s called Link. He probably hasn’t been by here recently, but have you seen him? In the past day, perhaps?”

“Link?” The man frowns. “Sure, I know him. Odd fellow. He’s always unsettled me. There’s something unnatural about him, I don’t know what. He uses the stable system a lot, but I haven’t seen him in awhile.”

Time pushes down the spark of irritation he feels at the man’s callous words. Biting back a reprimand to keep his observations to himself, he nods his thanks. 

“Sleep well!” Padok calls after him. 

The heroes have spread themselves throughout the stable. Sky is asleep on one of the beds already, as Time expected. Four sits leaned against Sky’s footboard, reading. Legend and Hyrule sit together on another bed. Hyrule says something, poking Legend in the side, and Legend goes red with embarrassment, scowling. There’s no one else nearby to pick up the ridicule.

Warriors, Time notes, is on another bed across the stable, scribbling in a book. His face is flushed, and Time can’t tell if it’s because he’s still angry or because he’s been crying. 

Twilight is nowhere to be seen, probably shifting back to Hylian form. Wind…

Time has to look for a bit before he finds the youngest hero. He’s seated at one of the round tables, across from a tired-looking man. Wind is asking questions that Time can almost hear from across the room, taking notes in a journal Time didn’t know he had. The man, despite his apparent exhaustion, is managing to match Wind’s gusto with his answers. Time makes his way over to the duo.

_ What kind of leader are you? _ a voice in his head asks.  _ Avoiding the conflict, instead of addressing it! You should know how to help them! This is tearing the group apart. _

_ There’s no way I won’t mess it up, _ he reasons back.  _ They’re better off without my interference. _

“Time!” Wind grins up at him as he approaches. “Me and Akrah were talking about the Silent Princesses! You know, those blue skeleton flowers?”

Time raises an eyebrow. “So that’s what they’re called?”

“Yeah! Isn’t that a cool name? Boy, I bet there’s a pretty good story behind that one. Akrah doesn’t know it, though. He’s a scientist, not a cultural historian!” Wind frowns. “Right? That’s who’d know about that?”

The man holds out his hand to Time, smiling weakly. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Time shakes it. “So what were you discussing?”

“Those lilies have a very interesting history,” Akrah says. “I did a brief study on them a while back.”

“By Hylia, old man, he knows so much!” Wind interjects.

“In the age before the Calamity,” Akrah continues like he’s already used to being interrupted, “ _ lilium sanguis _ was an endangered species. Scientists attempted to grow it in a controlled environment in order to repopulate, but were never successful. These days, most of the natural realm of Hyrule has been left completely alone for years. This has affected ecosystems in very interesting ways. Populations of many species have shifted dramatically since the disaster, and communities have had the chance to- sorry, that’s-” Akrah clears his throat. “Completely irrelevant. For reasons I haven’t quite been able to parse, the lily grows only in places with incredible concentrations of natural magic. The forest’s magic is disrupted by Hylian interference, so in deeper parts of the woods, places with high magic saturation, the lily blooms in earnest in ways it couldn’t before the Calamity. Beforehand, any areas with a high density of natural magic were disturbed too often by Hylians for the flower to really grow. That’s why, scientifically, the lilies growing in these skeletons? It makes no sense.

“I don’t see how anyone could have managed to plant them there.” Akrah rubs his forehead. “A lot are growing next to paths, which is of course completely uncharacteristic. There’s no reason - no way! - for them to have grown there themselves!” He huffs. “I can’t figure it out. And I’ve thoroughly inspected many of these specimens. They’re definitely _lilium sangius_ , not some corpse-feeding mimic species or something.” He shudders. “At least, as far as I can tell. The only conclusion that I can draw is that it’s a blessing of some sort. There’s no other explanation.” He takes a long swig out of his cup, swishing the water in a circle. “I believe all things can be explained and have rules. Even magic is its own science. This must be the doing of some powerful nature spirit or another…” He frowns. “I really haven’t researched far into that at all; spirits were never my area of expertise... Maybe it’s a group of spirits...?”

“A goddess?” Time hedges, remembering Padok’s earlier words.

“A  _ goddess _ ?” Akrah hums, running his hands along the dips and dents in the grainy wood of the table. “I  _ have  _ heard the theories… They all seem to imply it was Hylia, returned to save the kingdom, or something. I was under the impression that the royal bloodline had been destroyed, and I’m assuming we’d all know about it if the  _ actual  _ Hylia showed up to fix things. But maybe a minor forest deity… that’s a thought…”

Wind is practically vibrating with excitement. “Did you hear that, Time? This guy knows what he’s talking about!”

“Indeed.” Time ran his hand through his hair, leaning back. “You’ve got some interesting theories, to be sure.” He sighed. “So many conflicting accounts...”

“Oh, oh! And Akrah!” Wind’s standing on the rungs of his stool, his upper body leaned on the table. “Did you know the bones are like,  _ super _ light?”

Time gently pushes Wind back into his seat as Akrah frowns. 

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to,” the scientist says. “Did you-”

“Okay, so I picked up one of the hands of the skeletons, the ones the lilies grow in, and it was way lighter than it should have been! Hylian bones are  _ so much _ heavier than that.” Wind’s eyes gleam with excitement. “And we have  _ no idea _ why they’re so light.”

“That’s certainly…” Akrah pauses, brow furrowing. “Wait. How do you know how heavy-”

“So many clues!” Wind shouts, cutting him off. “We must see how they fit together to find the  _ truth _ !” He slams his fist onto the table. Akrah’s mug rattles, and Time reaches out to steady it.

“Sorry to ask, but…” Akrah runs his hand down his face. “Why exactly are you investigating this? I searched for a good while and was never able to find a definitive answer.”

“Because we wanna know!” Wind says. “We are heroes of the truth! Destroyer of lies!”

“Our friend is missing,” Time explains, swiping up a puddle of spilled water with his sleeve. “We’re worried about him, and I suspect these flowers may have some connection to him. And… yes. Because we want to know.”

“Alright, well,” Akrah says. “I would be careful. My theory is one of the nicer ones.” He leans in close, conspirational. “I’ve heard tales of monsters, zombies and ghouls, unnatural, inhuman things that go against logic,” he mutters, eyes dark. “I don’t believe everything I hear off the road, and you shouldn’t either, but…” He sighs. “Just… don’t to anything stupid.”

Wind laughs, and Time can’t help the smile that curls across his face. 

“Yeah, totally,” Wind says. 

“Safe travels.” Time gives Akrah a nod, standing and kicking his stool back under the table.

“And to you,” Akrah says. He doesn’t say anything more, but as the Links walk away, he stares into his mug, watching the water ripple ever so slightly.

* * *

The morning is warm and bright and humid, glazing the heroes in its soft, glistening glow. Time stands at the crossroads from the day before, staring long down the left path. He scans the tree line, reflexively checking for disturbances in the undergrowth. The bushes are still, only moving to rustle in the breeze.

_ Floria Falls, Lurelin Village _ , the sign labels the road they plan to take. As he studies the slope of the little red-stone cliffs splitting the landscape, Time wonders if Wild is heading to either of those places, or if he even has a destination in mind. So far, his path has been so erratic it seems like he’s wandering aimlessly. Though not necessarily the case, Time can’t help but feel like that’s exactly what’s been going on. Aimless wandering might be a cause for concern were it not so thoroughly Wild. The thought makes his chest ache. He wonders if the hero is okay. He knows Wild was alone for most of his journey, but he also knows how hard it can be, sometimes, to have nothing but the whispering ebb and flow of your own thoughts to keep you company.

“Alright,” Warriors says, walking up beside him. “We should get going. I don’t want to be traveling in the dark tonight.”

Time tears his eyes away from the sunbaked stone and glances over his shoulder. Sky stands in the pathway, re-buckling his belt after getting his bandages changed. Hyrule stands next to him, cramming the roll of bandages back into his pack and spiriting his knife off to who-knows-where. The rest of the heroes assemble, pushing off from against tree trunks and standing from their seats across chunks of ruined architecture.

“Why didn’t you just get him to fix your bandages at the stable?” Wind directs the question in Sky’s general direction, swallowing down a yawn. “We could have slept for longer.”

“I  _ told _ you!” Sky says, smoothing out his tunic. “I really didn’t think it’d be that much of a problem.”

“Yeah. Not a problem until you started bleeding through them while the stable was still in sight,” Four huffs. “Did you not catch any of this, Wind? Seriously, you can’t tell me you didn’t hear that  _ eep _ . I don’t think I’ve ever heard him make a sound like that.”

“I didn’t hear any of that shit.” Wind yawns again, jaw popping audibly. “It’s too damn early for this.”

“We really should get going,” Warriors says, leaning against the signpost.

“Yeah, yeah.” Four walks past him, starting down the path with a wave of his hand. “We’re going.”

“Since when were  _ you _ calling the shots?” Legend snarls as he filters past. “Oh, wait, of course you are. You can’t trust others long enough to let them handle things.” 

_ That’s unfair _ , is what Time wants to say as Warriors recoils, face a front of nothing more than irritation. But Legend sends Time such a nasty glare when he opens that Time can do nothing but flinch himself, eye widening in shock.

Only a moment later, Warriors and Time are the only ones still at the signpost. Further down the path, Hyrule is walking backwards, keeping an eye on them, making sure they’ll catch up. Time drags himself out of the swamp of his own thoughts, blinking and looking over at the other hero. 

Warriors returns his gaze, abandoning his staring contest with the tree across the path. “He didn’t mean it,” he manages. “He’s upset.”

Time sighs, shaking his head and stepping onto the path. Closing his eyes, he lets his feet trace the worn road. He tries to ignore the viscous knot in his gut, listening to Warriors’ footsteps trail behind him.

* * *

Time is watching the treetops ahead when he hears it. 

The thick, brushy branches have just started to part for the short cliffs that rise to either side of the path ahead when someone starts screaming. There’s a traveler stumbling towards them, an arrow through her upper arm. Blood is spreading through the dark fabric of her tunic. Behind her, two bokoblins are perched on the clifftops. There are lizalfos flooding out of the underbrush, more than Time’s ever seen near any well-traveled road.

He throws his shield up just in time to block an arrow. 

“Come on!” he yells, running forward and pulling out the Biggoron Sword. 

Time stumbles to a stop at the line between undergrowth and path. His sword cuts through the back of the first lizalfos as it leaps towards the traveler. The blade sinks past the scales in a spray of inky blood. The lizalfos screeches and turns around. Time wrenches his sword free to stab it through the middle. It collapses in a puff of shadow, and he whirls around to face the next as it darts up beside him. He meets the boomerang’s wicked edge in a flash of steel. Leaping forward as the lizard recoils, he slashes it across the middle. It falls back, hissing and snapping. Time feels an arrow clang against his armor. He slams his blade into the lizaflos’ skull. Turning around, he meets two more behind him. One leaps back, hissing and flicking its tongue. The other’s blade slams against his armor, the metal digging into his skin. He winces, knocking the blade out of the lizard’s claws. He kicks it away into the undergrowth. The first charges forward. It’s faster than Time expected. He barely manages to catch its blade on his own before it reaches his exposed neck. He heaves and throws the lizalfos off him. He’s about to rush forward and take it down when the other lizard’s elastic tongue shoots out and snaps around his wrist, yanking him backward. He twists around and slices the tongue in half, the Biggoron Sword heavy and unwieldy in his right hand alone. The lizalfos screams and stumbles back. Time sees a flicker out of the corner of his vision and barely dodges an arrow to the face. 

“Can someone get the archers?” he calls, sinking his blade into the first lizalfos’ chest and whirling around to slash open the tongueless one’s stomach. It topples to the ground, and he takes a moment to catch his breath, surveying the battlefield. Everyone he can see looks too occupied to deal with the bokoblins atop the cliff. Sky and Four are keeping the monsters at bay while the traveler watches their backs, catching arrows on her shield. Time has just enough time to note the swarm around Warriors before another lizalfos sprints up to him, jaw snapping.  _ Where the hell are they all coming from? _

Time steps out of the way of the lizalfos’ attack and spears it through the tail, the tip of his blade sinking into the ground. The lizalfos screeches and Time, seeing the impending attack just in time, dodges back out of its tongue’s range. His sword tears a jagged gash in the monster’s tail. His heel catches on a root and he falls backwards, splashing down in a shallow pool of water. Time rolls out of the way of the lizalfos’ jab. He gets a faceful of swampy water but leaps to his feet just in time to twist away from the spear tip and slash his sword across the lizard’s face. He bangs his hilt against its head and it goes down with a splash. 

Time spits the mud out of his mouth. His shirt is uncomfortably soggy under his armor now. He shudders. 

He pulls out his bow, ready to take out the damn archers himself, when he hears Warriors’ shout. Time glances over to see an arrow through his side. Time scrambles up into the low-swept branches of the tree so he doesn’t get attacked from behind. 

“You, ah, got anything in that bag of yours that might help?” Warriors yells over to Legend, who’s fighting his way through the crowd towards him. Time nocks an arrow, training it on one of the bokoblins.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Time hears Legend say. He grits his teeth, letting the arrow fly.

“ _ Really _ , Legend?” 

The arrow lands true, striking the bokoblin between the eyes. The pig-faced monster topples of the cliff with a yelp, falling limp on the pathway below.

_ I should intervene _ , one part of his brain says. Time nocks the next arrow. 

“If I had something in my bag to help, I would  _ use _ it.” Time takes aim. This argument is a disaster waiting to happen. He has to point his arrow through the branches of the tree to shoot this bokoblin. Time needs to step in before one of them gets hurt. He aims slightly above the bokoblin’s eyes. He thinks the shot will land, but his hands are shaky, the sweat drenching his palms making the handle slippery in his grasp. His stomach is churning and rolling.  _ Look at you, hiding in a tree, _ some voice in his mind hisses. He swallows, the motion grating on his dry throat.  _ No one is going to fix this. Why aren’t you fixing this? _

“You kidding? You’ve got so much shit in there, there’s no way you’ve got nothing.” Time takes a deep, shuddering breath. The arrow slides off the bow string, and he sets it back on with trembling fingers.  _ If I can just take out this last archer, _ he thinks to himself,  _ I can get down there and help.  _

The thought of intervening makes his breath catch in his throat, which is stupid and dumb and immature when he’s supposed to be the leader, he’s supposed to be in control here.  _ Some hero of courage you are. _

_ Dear Malon, _ he thinks, eyes blurring.  _ What am I missing? _

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever get out of this tree.

“Boys!” Sky calls, then, stabbing through the back a lizalfos that was about to impale Legend, and Time feels the breath leave him in an instant of guilty relief. Sky’s face is stony through the dappled leaves.  _ He has it under control _ , Time thinks as he watches, and instantly feels his stomach twist. 

“Now is  _ not _ the time to argue. Eyes on the fight!” 

Time sighs again.  _ Thank Hylia. They’ll be okay despite me. _

There’s a few seconds of peace. The anxiety writhing at his core unravels ever so slightly at the near-crisis averted.

Then, Legend screams.

There’s an arrow lodged in his side, and Time sees the spurt of blood from the wound in detail, dark liquid glinting in the sun. The last bokoblin still stands atop the cliff. As Time watches, it nocks another arrow, aiming straight for Warriors.

Time’s own arrow is through its neck before it can fire. He scrambles out of the tree, stumbling as he lands on the marshy ground.

Hyrule is already at Legend’s side when Time gets there, the glow of his healing magic wavering in the late afternoon humidity. The fight has tapered off; Twilight is helping the traveler over to a fallen log nearby, digging bandages out of his bag. Warriors stands a ways away, wiping blood off his sword. Sky walks over to him with a roll of bandages and a determined glare, forcing him to a seat on the ground and beginning to examine his arrow wound. Time takes a moment to breathe before making his way over to the congealing group of heroes.  _ It’s okay. It’s fine. He’s fine _ . It doesn’t matter how many times he repeats it. The anxiety is back, tight and tangled and hot and prickly in his core. He knows it was his fault. 

“That was a lot of monsters,” Four comments. 

“No shit,” Twilight says, snapping the arrowhead off the shaft. The traveler has a pained grimace on her face, and Time winces in sympathy.

“Is that normal for this area?” Time directs the question to the traveler. He needs the answer, and the distraction of conversation will help with her pain. He definitely isn’t talking to distract himself, too. “We're not from here.”

“No, not at all!” she says. “I've never seen so many in one place. Thank you, by the way! That would have been tight without you guys.” 

“All in a day's work.” Warriors winks, prompting a eyeroll from Legend, pushing himself to his feet with a quick thank-you pat on Hyrule's shoulder. 

“Seriously, that was weird,” Legend says. “Where do you think they all came from?”

“Maybe we're getting close to Wild?” Wind suggests. 

“So whatever force brought us together, whatever force is causing  _ this- _ ” Four motions to the blackened blood staining his blade - “doesn't want us to find Wild? Is that what you're saying?”

“Um-” the traveler interrupts. “I'm sorry, but if you're looking for someone, or you're lost, I can maybe help?”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Warriors says, “let's hear what she has to say.” Legend glares at him, but says nothing. 

“We've been rude,” Twilight intervenes. “Introductions?”

“Ah, yes.” Time holds out his hand. “We're a group of travelers, looking for our friend. You can call me Time.”

“Pleased to meet you.” The traveler shakes it. “Vellie. I'm a junior historian, currently doing field work on the Zonai culture.” She pushes her glasses up, waving at one of the pillars off the side of the path. “There's a lot in this area. I’m really excited to get started! This is my first time out in the field on my own, and my first time looking into the Zonai.” She giggles. Twilight ties off her bandage, and she slips him a blue rupee and keeps talking with a nod of thanks. “My brother researches the Sheikah and nothing but, nonstop. I know so much Sheikah lore at this point it’s almost tiring. But the Zonai- oh, it’s so fresh! Can you feel it? The way history runs through the veins of the very earth here? The way it thrums beneath the stone, just waiting to be uncovered?”

Warriors clears his throat, an amused grin on his face.

“Oh, sorry!” Vellie tucks her hair behind her ear. “Got a little, ah… carried away. Could you describe your friend to me? Maybe I've seen them.”

Twilight describes Wild's appearance, and Vellie's expression shifts to something Time can't quite unravel. 

“I...” she says, once he's done talking. “I don't know who that could be.”

She turns to leave, but Warriors grabs her wrist, letting go as she whirls back around, snatching her hand back. He holds up his hands in a silent apology. 

“Please,” Warriors says. “We're worried about him. If you know anything, we'd like to know.”

“I'm sorry. I have no idea who you are.” She hesitates. “I can't tell you if I've seen him recently, but...”

“Yes?” Sky prompts. 

“No, no, I can't say anything. I'm sorry, but, well.” She chuckles, brow creasing. “You...” She motions in their direction. “You don't exactly look harmless, you've got to admit.”

Four snorts. “She's got a point there.”

“We're intimidating!” Wind flexes, grinning. 

Vellie sends a glance their way, frowning in vague, polite confusion. “I'd... really like to help you, you seem nice enough, but I can't tell if you're...” She groaned, facepalming. “Oh, crud… I don’t have any bananas...”

_ What? _

Time laughs, careful, confused. “Sorry?”

Hyrule leans over to whisper in Time's ear. “Am I missing something?” Time shrugs.

“Ah, it’s fine if you don’t have anything you can tell us,” Warriors interjects, recovering admirably. “One more thing before you go, though. We're looking for information on those blue flowers inside the skeletons-”

“Silent Princesses.” Wind adds, bouncing on his toes. 

“-so if you've got any information...?”

Vellie's mouth is slightly open, and her frown seems more out of concentration than suspicion. “...You’re… seeking information on the Silent Princesses?” She says finally, with a breathy chuckle. “Huh. There's something going on here,” she says, squinting at the heroes, “but I'm intrigued. I will admit, I know a bit about them. I  _ am _ a historian, after all, and they're certainly a very interesting piece of history.”

“So they're old?” Warriors asks. “Not recently planted, or anything?”

“No, no, the flowers are recent,” she says. “The corpses are a little older at least... although, I'm not sure anyone's ever carbon-dated them. That sort of tech is ancient and nearly impossible to get your hands on these days, of course, otherwise Zaffe - that’s my big brother - would have probably used it to its limit already. Normally I'd tell you Silent Princesses can't be artificially transplanted, that they must have grown there on their own, but I had an interesting encounter about a year ago.” Her eyes glint. “It totally changed the way I look at those flowers! I was walking along a path- this was one of the first trips I took to do field work. It's super dangerous, of course, which is why Zaffy’s only just now letting me go on my own-” She pauses. “I digress. Ahem. Zaffy and I were in Central Hyrule and we saw two people on the roadside. It was super weird. One of them was standing guard while the other leaned over one of those skeletons on the roadside. When we walked up, the standing one kinda… bumped the kneeling one, and she stood up. I swear, she was...” Vellie frowned. “I might not have had the clearest look at her face, and maybe my memory is all fucked up from how surprised I was, but she was beautiful. Holy Hylia. In an eerie sort of way, though? I try to be objective, but there was a light about her, and a sad sort of feeling, even though she looked, like, my age, maybe a little younger. She stood up and said hi, and that’s when I realized what she was doing - she had just planted a Silent Princess inside the skeleton!” Vellie runs a hand through her hair, eyes wide and glinting. “First off, I was impressed, because that's, like, huge and crazy and if I were a biologist I'd probably be screaming right now. But anyway, I asked her what she was doing, planting all those flowers, and she didn't say anything beyond 'paying respects'. I assume she was paying respects to dead travelers? Hard to know for sure. She was completely unreadable. I honestly wouldn't be surprised if that lady turned out to be Hylia or something. Meanwhile the person next to her just stood there, staring at the flower. I don't know what their deal was. Maybe they were sad about all the dead people? Who knows.” She laughs. “If we want to get really radical, maybe they were there, during the Calamity! They did hold quite an impressive sword. That sadness in their eyes... who knows. It could be. Maybe that  _ was _ Hylia.” She gives a hysterical little laugh. “Oh, my, so many theories, about who that strange person could have been! I've got... so many and I've already talked quite a bit... everything else is pure speculation, I really do have no clue whatsoever who that could have been. Well, if you guys are going to find that friend of yours, you'd better be off, eh?” 

And with that, she leaves, walking down the path. As she passes Time, she keeps her eyes to the road in front of her, her face flaming.

“What was that?” Warriors mutters. Time shakes his head, watching her hurry down the path.

“Thank you for all your help!” Sky calls after her.

“Safe travels!” Hyrule adds, garnering a halfhearted wave in return. 

“What an...” Warriors mutters, watching her walk away, “ _ interesting _ young woman.”

“What, you got a crush or something?” Legend spits.

Warriors glances at him. “What?” He huffs. “No. She was just a bit strange, is all.” 

“What's  _ strange _ is you wanting to poke your nose into everyone's business,” Legend mutters. “No one's 'normal'. You need to learn to just let it go.”

“Here we go.” Four sighs. Time's stomach is churning. Half his mind is screaming at him to intervene, replaying the image of the arrow in Legend's side, and the other half is screaming about Legend’s glare at the crossroads, about everything he doesn’t know how to say. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn't know what to do.  _ He doesn't know what to do _ .

“What? You think I need everyone to fit in, or something?” Warriors scoffs. 

“No, I think you're being an ass!” Legend shoots back. 

Time isn't sure, but he thinks he can feel Sky's gaze burning into his back. Sky took control before, and now he's expecting Time, the leader, to take over before things get out of hand. He doesn't dare to look, to check for the other Link's expectant eyes.

“When will it sink in that I'm just trying to keep us all safe? I'm not attacking you or your privacy. I'm not blaming Wild for whatever happened to him. You're just too  _ blind _ to realize that.”

Or maybe Sky was judging him. He didn’t need Sky’s judgment, he already knew Legend getting shot was his fault. He wishes he could tell Sky so that the other hero didn’t feel like he had to correct him, to tell him he had failed to keep his friends safe. He knew he failed. He  _ knew _ . It was all he’d done so far. 

Time grabs a fistful of his hair, giving it a sharp tug. The sensation is grounding, at least a little, from the airy spiral his mind had been falling down. 

“And what if nothing  _ happened _ to him, huh?” Legend asks, voice cracking. “What if what he's hiding isn't something that happened to him, but something he did?”

“Legend, I-”

“Since you insisted on prying so deep, let's piece together a story of what could have happened.” Legend fixes Warriors with a cold glare. “The girl from Vellie's story was probably Wild's Zelda, right? And the other person must have been Wild. Wild seemed sad, and Zelda was planting flowers to pay respects. I wonder why Wild didn't say anything. He seemed upset when we started to pry into his secrets. Maybe it’s just that he’s sad about that whole Calamity thing and guilty over things that aren’t his fault, which is bullshit. But what if it's not that?” Legend’s gaze has gone heavy and cold, as if imparting some message Time can’t quite parse. He’s still staring at Warriors, who looks just as unsure as Time. 

“There's clearly something more going on here. You saw his blood.” Legend turns away, glaring at the tree line. “One thing I know about magic overuse is that it can do strange things to people. What if that's the result of some powerful magic? What if his Ganon was so powerful he had to take on some dark power to defeat him, some power he never wanted-” Legend’s voice cracks. He’s looking down, now, to the floor. His shoulders are hunched, his words coming faster and faster. Time wonders if the unidentifiable thing in his expression might have been vulnerability. “Sure, the Calamity was a disaster. But Hyrule hasn’t recovered. What if-” his face crumples. “What if  _ he  _ did this? What if, in defeating evil, in freeing himself from his quest, he shattered the world?” Legend digs his hands into his face, like he’s trying to force the tears brimming in his eyes back into his head. “What if-” he gasps. “What if it’s his fault it’s gone? What if he killed them all? What if he was scared-” Legend’s voice broke. “Scared to tell you. Scared for you to know.” He finished the sentence in a whisper. “How do you face him after that, tell him when you find him that you already know what he did?”

Time had never seen Legend cry before. The tears run down his face, tracing tracks against his flushed skin, before splattering on the dirt road. The silence is thick and clotted and clumpy. Warriors is still, mouth agape.

“You've cracked the case,” Legend whispers. “Solved the mystery. What do you say to Wild? Are you still so desperate to find him once you know what he did? Do you-” he swallows. “Do you leave him behind?”

Warriors gasps. “Wh-” he stutters. “N-no!”

“Great,” Legend says. His voice has fallen flat. He rubs the tears off his face, taking a deep breath. “Now he either feels like he can't trust us, or he feels like he doesn't have a right to his secrets, even if they're bad and dark and horrible. Like we have to know every bad and dark and horrible thing, to judge it not too bad or too dark or too horrible, before we’ll leave him be.” He lets out the rest of his breath. It shudders on the way out.

“...Maybe you're right. Maybe whatever evil force brought us here is trying to keep us from finding him, maybe you're doing the right thing. Maybe it’s safer if we know it all.” He turns away, starting down the path. “‘S just a theory,” he throws over his shoulder, and no one makes a move to follow. 

The silence sits thick and sludgy over the group, coalescing around Time’s ankles and locking him in place. No one moves. No one speaks. It feels like no one is breathing, no one but the crickets and tree frogs, awake in time for sundown. Time’s mind is filled with choking cobwebs of shock. 

There was real pain behind Legend’s words, something buried deep there that had cracked a little more every time Warriors pushed his investigations further. Something that Time didn’t know a thing about, and didn’t know how to fix. 

_ Dear Malon _ , he writes, and those are the only words that come. 

“Warriors...” Wind hesitates. “Maybe this is one case we shouldn't have tried to crack.”

Warriors is staring at the trees. He says nothing. Lightning crashes in the distance, and the first patterings of rain start to fall from the clouds that have been gathering all day.

_ Brigo did say the weather here was fickle _ , Time remembers absently. His legs are weak and he's sick to his stomach and each raindrop burns like acid on his skin. The group stews in silence, and the words Time might have said sit thick and prickly on his tongue, sliding down the back of his throat like a bitter, viscous potion. Four flips up his hood as the rain begins to fall harder. Wind sticks out his tongue to catch some almost as an afterthought. Sky pulls his sailcloth over his head. Warriors, who would normally be whining something or another about the downpour and his poor, poor hair, doesn't move. 

“We've come this far,” Twilight says finally, and the quiet loosens its grip, ever so slightly. “We might as well keep going.”

Time nods, wordless. He takes the lead, and the other Links follow. With every step, he wades through heavy silence, and he feels like a fraud. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUCKING FINALLY
> 
> Am I the only one who HCs Spinch as aro? he don't need nobody but his horse. good for him.
> 
> did i just write two random background characters as easily distractible nerds? yes. does this mean i have an entire two unnecessarily long lore dump monologues now? yes. do i care? no. go away, I’m trying to project over here
> 
> Also. Someone. Drew art. Based of my fic. I have now died. It is actually so freaking beautiful. Go look. Their art is so cool. Go. go look.   
> https://kaizerkon.tumblr.com/post/631749085911728128/before-him-lies-a-skeleton-its-ribs-are-like


	5. Lifeblood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter’s title is a Hollow Knight reference, because :)

_ The world was huge and glorious, wonderful and overwhelming. Spread before him, a tapestry of rolling hills and soaring mountains glowed with pulsating lava. Dense, lush forests spread beneath his feet, sunbaked cliffs rising from their depths. It was oddly familiar, yet entirely alien; there was an anxious, confused thrum in his chest, prickly and uncomfortable. Something inside him was screaming that he should know this world.  _

_ Sun was on his skin, though, and the air was fresh. It was much better than the cave he had just exited, where a thick layer of dust covered everything, tickling at his lungs, where the only light was cold and blue.  _

_ A path to his right led down the cliffside, ambling towards a squat rocky overhang. Underneath, sitting before a fire, a man was dressed in old, worn clothing. A few somethings were baking in the embers. Though they seemed familiar, Link couldn’t quite identify them.  _

_ He ignored the path. Picking his way down the steeper edge of the hill, Link stumbled into a small copse of trees.  _

_ Next to a green-leafed bush, he found a tree branch, which he picked up. It rested comfortably in the palm of his hand. He felt safer, somehow, even though the branch was blunt and flimsy. _

_ One of the trees had bright, shiny fruit growing on its branches. It caught his eye. He spent a moment just staring at it. Then, Link scrambled up the trunk, plucking one of the fruits from its branch. It rested cool and smooth in his hand.  _ Apple _ , he remembered.  _ This is an apple. 

_ It was good to eat, he was pretty sure. He hoped he was right because it certainly tasted good, crisp and sweet and amazing and oh, he’d already eaten half of it.  _

_ The center, he quickly found, was not so kind as the rest. Spluttering, he tossed the core on the grass and reached back up to pick the rest of the apples. The Sheikah Slate swallowed them up in strands of glittery blue, storing them… somewhere.  _

_ Dropping to the ground three apples richer, he headed deeper into the trees. Ahead, the forest floor sloped down into a clearing, the ground populated by piles of smooth rocks and boulders. Next to a few, bright against grey, were red things that poked and wiggled and prodded at the back of his mind. Link trotted down the slope and picked one out of the ground. As he squinted at it, something stuck in his mind came free.  _ Mushroom _. He turned it over in his hands.  _ Hylian Shroom _. It was edible, just like the apple was, and that excited him.  _

_ Link scrambled around the clearing, plucking the mushrooms and storing them in the Slate. As he held each in his hands, he reveled in the knowledge of what it was. The scraps of memory he could feel attached to the little red fungi were like lifelines.  _ Maybe _ , he thought, as a memory of the scent of the mushrooms crackling, cooking soft over a fire emerged,  _ maybe I was a person once _. _

_ When he leaned over to grab the last, glimmering mushroom from its place beside a boulder, the ground started to shake. He stumbled back, still clutching the shroom in his hand. Its stalk squished under his fingers, tiny and soft. Link was suddenly reminded that all he wielded was a stick.  _

_ Stones erupted from the ground. They assembled with a shrieking and crashing of rock, tumbling over each other into a crumbling spire. They stacked, and stacked, and stacked, until a gargantuan golem towered over him.  _

Talus _ , his mind supplied. He didn’t have time to run.  _

_ The talus swung its giant stone fist. Fire erupted in his chest, all the air leaving his lungs in one strangled gasp. There was a spray of something blue. His head was ringing, his ears were ringing, his mind was ringing, he was weightless. His back hit something hard, and the world dissolved. _

* * *

Time is the only one awake. 

The solitude isn’t silent; the entire forest has come to life with the moon’s arrival, chirruping and squawking and rustling. The heroes had followed Wild’s scent far off trail after Legend’s explosion that evening. No one said a word beyond Warriors’ half hearted attempts at conversation. 

They’re camped in the deep rainforest now, where the river twists a gorge into the forest’s floor and strange, spiked fruits grow on stumpy trees. Aside from the forest’s foreign-yet-familiar song, the world is muted, and Time is left alone with his thoughts.

Normally a night like this would be haunted by memories, images of fire and stone he’d yet to shake. Tonight, his head swims with the phantom echoes of the day’s words. 

_ Dear Malon _ , he thinks to himself.  _ I don’t know what I’m doing _ .

_ Well, then _ , says her voice in the back of his head,  _ figure it out instead of moping about it, silly.  _

_ That’s the issue, though, isn’t it?  _ he thinks back.  _ I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.  _

Head-Malon has nothing to say to that.

He sighs. Focusing on the way the humid air seems to wrap around his arms and cling to his skin, on the way sweat moistens his legs where he’s sitting on the felled tree, on the way it beads on his neck, he tries to distance himself from his swirling mind. Latching onto the chirruping songs of the night insects, his ears focus, sharpening the sound. The reedy noise fills his head, drowns out the thoughts that scream  _ you aren’t good enough, you’ve already failed, why bother trying again? _

Any measure of time goes by, Time sitting in the stagnant quagmire of his own thoughts, before the crickets snap into startled silence. He’s broken out of his trance. Time straightens. His ears flick, trying to pick up on what shattered the night’s murky rhythm.

_ There _ . Somewhere in the woods behind him: the faint clash of metal against metal. Time stands as the crickets’ song resumes, however tentative and warbling, even as the sounds of fighting continue. He grabs his sword, slings it over his back, and leans over to where Twilight sleeps, curled into his bedroll. 

“Hey,” he whispers, shaking his protege’s shoulder. Twilight wakes with a jolt, rolling over to look at him. “I heard something. Keep watch here for me?”

Twilight nodded, blinking hard and sitting up, pulling his sheathed sword closer to him. 

Time gives him a pat on the shoulder and stands up. “Thanks.”

He sets off into the forest.

It’s darker under the canopy of the trees. Stout and leafy, they carpet the sky in thick, greenish shade. Time has to keep a close eye on the ground, roots twining and crossing and fading into the fuzzy nighttime shadows. Everything is green leaf or reddish trunk; Time can hear a distant stream rushing and flowing over itself. Time lets himself be lost in the thrum of the night until he finds his destination. Maybe he already knows what he’ll see; maybe he’s clinging to the last bit of the night’s peace. 

Time takes a deep breath. He rests his trembling hand on the hilt of his sword. He takes the final few steps past the trees’ embrace and into a clearing, and there-

There is Wild, standing in the grass, his hair a knotted mess, his tunic caked in dirt. There is Wild, parrying the blade of a lizalfos whose horn thrums with crackling light. There is Wild, draped in moonlight, backlit by the humming glow of a shrine. There is Wild, with skin almost translucently pale in the blue light. 

There is Wild, head snapping around as Time stumbles on a root at the edge of the clearing and gasps, there is Wild, staring, shocked, there is Wild, not looking and not looking and not looking as the flickering charge at the lizard’s horn builds and builds, and there is-

There is Time, paralyzed. Time, feet sunk deep into the weighty dirt, Time, ice running thin through his bones. Time, who only watches.

The shock is white. Brilliant, actually. Time closes his eyes on reflex. The scream is brighter, somehow, a searing brand against Time’s mind. It’s the scream that his ears latch onto, the agonized, ragged  _ scream _ . Time is well out of reach of the blast of electricity, but the shriek sends a painful jolt through his bones. 

He’s in the middle of the clearing before he knows what he’s doing, vision blurry and sharp at the same time, eyes locked, burning, on the single lizaflos, broadsword straight through its midsection. The lizard’s black blood is pouring down his blade in rivulets, ugly and sticky, staining Time’s hands black, and he couldn’t care less. 

He stumbles back from the lizaflos’ corpse as it topples to the ground. He’s unsteady, swaying, his head full of static.

For another long, long while, he’s paralyzed again. He battles back the anxiety, a staticky wave in his ears, in his chest, forces himself to turn, forces himself to face  _ what he had done- _

The clearing is silent. There is no noise. Nothing moves. Wild lies in the dirt, still, dead. There is no avoidance in Time’s mind. He knows it to be true, even before he’s checked for a pulse. Wild is dead. Gone.

Time can’t look at his frizzy hair (the hair that he’d never let them cut, that he’d neglect for days until it was a ragged, knotted mess and Warriors had to take care of it), or the marks that stain his body and wrap across his skin (parallel to the scars that paint his body in a webbing map of repeating deltas). He falls to his knees, holding his fingers to Wild’s neck. 

Time has never checked for Wild’s pulse before. He isn’t sure, with the strange blood that flows through his veins, if Wild ever even had one. 

Wild isn’t breathing.

Wild is still in the dirt.

Wild isn’t breathing. 

Time doesn’t know how long he kneels there, in the thick, heavy humidity. Wild’s skin is like ice, burning acidic and terrible against his hands. He isn’t sure what’s causing the shuddering in his frame. All Time knows is that the silent, viscous darkness that’s clenched itself around his heart has an icy grip, and that Wild’s face has never looked so quiet. 

Is this why there were so many lizalfos on the path? Were they not fast enough? Was it Time’s fault, for not holding the group together long enough to find their missing member?  _ You failed him _ , something in his mind says, and Time heaves in a shuddering breath, hunching over Wild’s body, remembering the cold paralysis that ran thick from his core to the tips of his fingers.  _ You failed him. Look at what you did to him _ , it says. 

The form that Time is curled over is quiet and dead and cold and it’s always been cold and suddenly it’s the end of the world again, only this time there’s no fire or stone or screaming but the agony is the same, tearing through Time’s chest and hollowing out his stomach because Wild isn’t coming back and it’s all Time’s fault. 

_ “I’m not afraid,”  _ Wild said once, but that was a lie. The smile, the words, the nonchalance, that was all a lie and Time knew it. __

_ “There’s no coming back from something like that,"  _ B rigo had said, and Time, in the back of his mind, laughed it off with some morbid humor because there was a place, once, where that wasn’t true, not for Time, at least. And it’s not true here, either; Wild has seen this dark before. Time knows the story. They all do. That knowledge doesn’t help when it’s Wild’s empty form he holds in his arms. 

Time isn’t sure how long he kneels in the dirt, how long it is until he’s pulled out of his reverie. It’s something that catches his eye, a light glinting in the watery, teary mess of his vision, that finally gets him to look up. 

He scoots back, blinking hard to clear his eyes and taking in a stuttery breath. There’s something bright pulsating at Wild’s heart, blue and shimmering. A starburst of light glows from within his chest, spiderwebbing across the tracks the electricity wore in Wild’s skin. Time scrambles backwards, eyes fixed on the brilliance bathing the clearing. Confused panic is clawing its way up Time’s throat as the light spreads, consuming Wild’s form inch by inch. 

Time knows little in that moment beyond one thing: this is not Mipha’s Grace. One night when it was late and dark and neither Time nor Wild could sleep and nothing seemed real beyond the crackling flames of the campfire, Wild told Time about the power he gained from the Zora Champion’s ghost. The story had been given in whispered tones, breathless under the stars, and sometimes Time wonders if that conversation was even real at all. 

This is not Mipha’s Grace. The light is not the blinding aquamarine of spirits not yet laid to rest. The light is soft cerulean, matching the shrine’s silent vigil.

Wild’s body dissolves into glittering blue, droplet after droplet rising from his chest, suspended in time. More and more float up towards the star-freckled sky, a brilliant cloud undulating and pulsing. In what feels like an instant, all that’s left of the body is a skeleton, roots and vines and plants twining and twisting around the bones. The swarm congeals atop the shrine platform, glittering threads taking shape over the pulsating Sheikah medallion. They reshape into something human, something concrete. Time feels more than hears himself gasp.

Wild blinks his eyes open as the light weaves itself into the details of his face, into the fine tips of his fingers, the rippling fabric of his tunic, the threads of his hair, and the ridged landscape of scars webbing their way across his skin. His feet touch down atop the cold stone. The light solidifies into pale skin and gold hair and blue and tawny fabric. 

Blessedly familiar, blessedly impossible. Paler and gaunter than ever.

_ Wild. _

There’s a moment where both of them stand there in silence. Time’s eyes are locked onto the startling blue of Wild’s own. Wild looks pristine. He’s breathing like he just sprinted across the whole of Faron. 

“I-” Wild starts, and takes a step. He stumbles, his knee giving out, and suddenly Time is next to him, wrapping his arm under Wild’s shoulders, hoisting him back to his feet, helping him off the platform and sitting him on the ground. Time’s own hands are shaking and there’s a thrum of terrified confusion at his core but Wild is cold and small in Time’s arms and somehow  _ alive _ and Time is not letting go.

“Are you okay?” Time asks. “Are you okay?”

Wild nods shakily, staring at the ground a few feet to Time’s left and heaving in breath after breath.

“You’re cold.” Time scrambles to find a better grip, leaning Wild against his shoulder. He feels him nod once more.

“Let’s-” Time’s voice cracks. “Let’s get you back to camp, okay? You can rest there.”

After a moment of hesitation, Wild lets out a shuddery sigh. Time takes it as a go-ahead and stumbles to his feet, gripping Wild tight against his chest and setting off.

Wild is silent as they walk, sweat beading on his forehead. He stares at nothing, at everything. His breathing is irregular and heavy even though something tells Time he’s in perfect physical condition. 

Time doesn’t say a thing. He doesn’t know what to say. And he doesn’t want to screw up again. He doesn’t want to ruin it, and somewhere in the back of his mind, the image of Wild sprinting away into the woods burns bright and painful. 

When they get back to camp, Twilight takes in the sight of the two of them and gets to his feet. Wild relaxes when he sees his mentor; Time sets him down and Twilight catches him, easing him down to his own bedroll. Turning to Time, Twilight says, “I’ll take watch.” 

Normally, Time would protest, but his legs are trembling and weak and he feels like he might fall over and every breath makes the knot in his stomach twist, so he doesn’t say a thing. Time looks down again. Wild is curled on his side on the worn fabric. 

Sudden movement across camp catches Time’s eye, then, and he turns to look. Legend sits upright in his bedroll, staring wide-eyed at Wild. Time sighs. He’d have to explain… no,  _ Wild _ would have to explain his sudden reappearance to the others. Time still wasn’t even sure what happened.

Legend catches Time’s gaze and freezes. 

_ Couldn’t sleep _ , he signs. 

Time isn’t sure he’ll get much sleep that night either. Not knowing what to say in response, he shrugs and makes his way over to his own bedroll, collapsing. Letting his eyes fall shut, he sighs. The sight of Wild’s still form is painted across his eyelids, the blood bright and garish, neon in the afterimage of the lizalfos’ electricity. 

Around him, perched in the stubby, swaying trees, the crickets chirp their stagnant melody, and Time lets the sound fill his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Hanukkah to anyone who's observing!  
> who else is listening to your new boyfriend on loop


	6. Courage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. Blame Minecraft.

Time wakes to chirruping insects and gentle humidity, nothing more. The serenity is enough to put him on his guard. 

He drags himself from sleep and pulls his face out of the pillow, peering out the stable door. It’s still night. Everything is quiet, the stable breathing with its own sleepy life.

Time takes a moment to simmer in the silence, letting the nighttime envelope him, letting the blankets hug his legs, letting the dusty webs of exhaustion tug still at the edges of his mind. He lays still and listens to the crackling torches outside and the distant thundering of Floria Falls.

Then, Time forces himself to his feet. Letting the blankets fall in a messy heap atop his bed, he grabs his sword, pulls on his boots, and clips his ocarina to his belt, despite how everything in him protests. It’s rare that Time wakes up at odd hours without cause, and he probably ought to find out what’s roused him this time.

Padding silently across the stable’s wooden floor, Time looks out the doorway. The stable the heroes are staying at is in the heart of Faron, at the base of stony red cliffs and nestled in the humid forest. Just down the path, he knows, a huge river slices a ravine in the ground, a series of majestic waterfalls rising above the forest. Above him, the night sky is a map of diamonds. A single stablehand sits on the stable steps, and she nods to Time as he walks past. 

His feet carry him to the right, past the haphazard lookout tower and towards the falls’ roar. The worn path gives way to wooden planks, Floria Bridge spanning the river before him. Floria Falls are to his left. 

Partway across Floria Bridge, there’s a little observation deck facing the falls. Its partial-railing, though more thorough than the rest of the bridge’s none, is halfhearted at best. At the edge of it, feet dangling hundreds of feet above the rushing water, sits Wild, staring towards the falls. Time makes his way down the bridge. Making sure Wild hears his footsteps approaching, he sits down near the hero, keeping a careful distance between him and the bridge’s edge. Wild isn’t wearing his sleeping clothes; he’s got on the Champion’s Tunic along with his usual pants, almost like he’s ready to head out, or like he never expected to fall asleep at all.

He saw the lake the day before, but there’s something different about Floria Falls at night. The moonlight glints off the rushing water, and the falls’ song seems to echo, cacophonous when the rest of the world has fallen asleep. 

Well, most of it. Wild is silent, staring at the dark water below him and swinging his legs. The motion is slow, back and forth, back and forth.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Time says, breaking the falls’ hold on the world. “All of us.”

Wild takes in a sharp breath, then, face scrunching up.

“Why did you come after me?” Wild asks, eyes squinted shut, mouth a tight line. Time didn’t know what to expect from this conversation, dreaded messing it up from the moment he saw Wild on the bridge, but the tightness in Wild’s voice catches him off guard.

“Excuse me?” 

“I  _ said _ ,” Wild looks up at him, scowling, “why the hell did you come after me?”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Time sits up straight, frowning. 

“Why wouldn’t-” Wild growls, fists tightening around the edge of the bridge. “You- I- If I wanted to come back, I would have!” 

Time falters, remembering Hyrule’s protests, Legend’s arguments, Four’s words. “You want to leave?”

Wild takes in a shuddering breath. “I can’t believe you followed me. I could have teleported within a ten minute’s distance of your old camp. It would not have been hard to find you.” He looks away, eyes burning into the view. “What I don’t understand is why you bothered to follow me. Why won’t you just leave me the fuck alone?”

“We thought you were upset,” Time says. “We wanted to help, and we  _ missed _ you. Everyone’s been stressed since you left because we didn’t know where you were or what was going on. You should have told us if you didn’t want to be followed. Why in Hylia’s name do you want to leave?”

Wild’s tight expression crinkles under some unseen weight, eyes growing wet.

“What’s wrong?” Time asks, reaching out hesitantly.  _ What do I do what do I do what do I do what in Hylia’s name- _

Tears spill from Wild’s eyes, and he heaves out a sob, leaping to his feet. “Stop!” he cries. “Just- stop it! Hylia!” He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I can’t  _ believe _ you followed me. Why won’t you just leave me alone? Why-” his voice cracks. “Why haven’t you told them? What do you want from me? Why are you being so nice? Stop- just stop. Stop lying to me, you asshole. Stop it. Stop.”

Something in Time’s chest pangs at that, twisting painfully. “ _ Lying- _ Wild, this isn’t an act!”

“I-” Wild shudders. “I can’t- I- I don’t understand why you followed me. Why didn’t you just leave?”

“What are you  _ talking  _ about?” Time pushes himself to his feet.

Wild’s eyes fly open, and he stares up at Time, lips trembling, stature small as though he expects to be hit. “You-” he whispers after a moment, staring at the ground. “You were there. You saw it. I’m not human, I’m a monster, no one should be able to-” 

“Wild!” Time grabs Wild’s shoulders. Wild flinches, full-bodied, and slams his fist into Time’s gut. 

Time wheezes as all the air leaves his lungs at once, stumbling back and thudding to the deck. He heaves in a breath. The wooden plank he sits on digs into his tailbone. 

Time blinks, hard, and his sight clears. Wild stands a few feet away, both hands over his mouth. His face his half-obscured by the night, but his eyes are wide, glinting in the moonlight, horrified. Time gets to his feet, and holds both hands in front of him. 

“Wild-”

Wild stumbles back a step, sinking back down to the deck. He curls up and turns away, burying his head in his arms. “Just… leave,” he says. His voice is hard.

Time drops his hands to his sides, unsure and awkward.  _ Dear Malon _ , he thinks.  _ Remember that whole good listener thing? I’ve royally fucked it up. _

“ _ Link _ ,” Time tries again, sitting down next to him. 

“Just leave, okay?” Wild turns his head to look at him, head still nestled in his arms. “Go- go back to sleep, and in the morning I’ll be gone, and you won’t ever have to thing about me with my fucked-up problems and my fucked-up blood ever again, and you can go save the world with the other heroes and be good and get it right the first time and not freak people out together.” By the end, Wild’s voice is more whisper than talk. “I don’t know why I ever thought I could do this.”

Time doesn’t know where to start with that. 

“No,” he says. There. Simple. A good start. “No, I won’t,” he continues. “I can’t.”

Wild turns back, re-burying his face in the fabric of his shirt.

“I can’t because you’re one of us,” Time says, “and you’re not a monster, and we don’t want you to leave, and we can’t save the world without you. I’m sorry we investigated without your permission, but we’ve been a mess since you left. We just wanted you back. And…” Time takes a deep breath. “You’re not the only one with fucked-up problems. I’d be surprised if one of us didn’t have fucked-up problems.” 

“It’s different when you’re undead a hundred times over.” It’s barely more than a mutter, and it’s muffled through his shirt fabric, but Time hears it all the same. “It’s not- nothing’s the same after you’ve seen death that many times.”

“I-” Time squares his shoulders. “I know.” 

“You can’t,” Wild snaps, looking over at him. “You can’t know. You can’t know what that’s like.”

He’s right. No one can know what that’s like - no one that hasn’t experienced it. Time thinks back to masks and moons and the same gate again and again and again, and decides to take a risk. 

Raising an eyebrow, he says, “Can’t I?”

Wild’s eyes widen. 

Time tilts his head back, closing his eyes. “My second quest qualifies as a ‘fucked-up problem’, I should think. I’ll spare you the details. I haven’t told anyone but my wife the whole story. Twilight knows only some.

“I don’t know if you know how I got my title.” He fingers the ocarina clipped to his belt. After all these years, he still can’t go anywhere without it. “Temporal manipulation is powerful and dangerous, especially in the hands of a child.” He huffs out a laugh. “I think I managed pretty well. After my first adventure left me with nothing, I found myself in a land with three days before its inevitable destruction. I never could have succeeded the first time.” He takes a deep breath of the warm night air. “Even with the power to reset the clock, I died plenty. I don’t know how many times I was destroyed, razed to the ground along with the rest of that place, only to find myself once more standing before the city gates. I do know that the darkness in between was crushing, but oh, so tempting. I could never die, though.” He tilts his head back to stare up at the stars. “No. I wasn’t getting out of that place until I found a way to fix the problem. The first time was horrible because I thought I was doomed and it was all new and confusing. The second time even more awful because that was when I realized I was stuck. The third time was the worst because that was when reality set in.”

For a long moment, both of them are silent, listening to the crashing of the falls. It’s been so long but Time still knows just how different it is from the sound the moon made when it crashed to the ground, just how much more alive.

Wild lifts his tearstained face to the sky. 

“That’s it,” he says. “That’s exactly it. It never got easier.”

Floria Bridge creaks and groans in the wind. “Can I touch you?” Time asks, and Wild nods. 

Arm around Wild, Time watches the waterfalls, watches the starlight glimmer across the river’s surface.

“You’re not a monster,” Wild says finally, voice choked.

“I know,” Time says. “You aren’t either. Who told you that?”

“I dunno,” he mumbles thickly. “I’ve heard it a few times. The first time was…” Leaning into Time’s embrace, Wild rests his head on Time’s shoulder. “…was some random traveler. There were some bokoblins, there, when I got out of a shrine, so I killed them, and then I didn’t hear the guardian coming-” He swallows. “I died and she almost died and then I came back and killed the guardian and she screamed and ran away.”

Time remembers Padok’s words and sighs. “She was wrong.”

“I know.” 

Time is pretty sure that’s a lie, but he lets it slide. There’ll be time to work on that later. 

“It was the shrine,” Wild says after a moment. “At least, I think it was. The Shrine of Resurrection. Zelda tells me I nearly bled out the night I died. She theorized that it had to use so much magic… technology, whatever, on me, that I’m…” he trails off. “…more magic than Hylian.

“Time…” Wild leans into Time’s side. His voice is a choked whisper. “I think I’m dying.” 

The quiet words echo in the night air, seeming louder than the falls to Time’s ears. He looks down at Wild, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“I think I’m dying  _ for good _ ,” he says. “I didn’t use to be so thin.” He pulls up his tunic. His belt is on the tightest hole, and still, it hangs loose. “Every time I die, I feel weaker… You remember when I broke my leg last week? A year ago, a fall like that would have fractured at worst.” He takes in a shuddering breath. “My bones can’t recycle like the rest of me. I’m running out of second chances.”

He’s barely speaking by the end, his fists clenched in the fabric of Time’s shirt. For the first time since Time met him, he realizes, Wild is crying. 

Time has no idea what to say. There’s something heavy and cold and hard in his stomach. For the first time in a while, he decides to take a gamble. He’s the only one here to help. 

_ I believe in you _ , Malon’s voice says.

“You don’t have to worry about it,” he says finally. “You’re not on your own anymore. You don’t have to die. We’ll keep you safe.” 

Wild says nothing. The falls’ rushing reigns, and Time elects to take that as a good thing. He shifts into a more comfortable position, leaning Wild’s head against his shoulder.

“So…” he hedges. “The others.”

Wild curls in on himself. 

“You don’t want to tell them.” It isn’t a question. “May I ask why? No one would think less of you for it. I assure you, there are darker secrets being kept. It’s not just that, though, is it?”

“No.” Wild lets out a breathy laugh. “No, it’s not.”

Wild stares out at the falls, and Time gives him a moment to collect his words.

“Everyone else managed just fine,” he says finally. “I died… I  _ failed- _ ” his voice cracked- “ _ so _ many times.”

“So did I,” Time points out.

“You had three days. I had… I don’t know how long I had. I didn’t have three days. I was  _ so scared _ , Time, I don’t know how I’m a hero of  _ courage- _ ”

“Hey, hey.” Time pulls Wild in closer. “I think you’re a little confused.”

“Yeah?” Wild huffs. “’Bout what?”

“What it means to succeed,” he says, “and what it means to be courageous.”

“Lay it on me.” Wild stares up at the stars. “What do I have wrong here?”

“First off,” Time starts, smiling despite himself, “courage isn’t the absence of fear, it’s doing what you know is right even though you’re afraid. You are a hero of courage.”

Wild sighs. “Okay,” he whispers.

“Furthermore, one’s success cannot be measured based on whether or not they succeeded on their first try,” he continues. “What matters is whether they persevered until they met their goal, not how long it took them to reach it.” 

“But it took me so much longer,” Wild says. “If I screwed up so many times, and all of them made it just fine, how…?”

“This isn’t objective.” Time closes his eyes. “You and I had different tasks. Legend and Four had different tasks, Twilight and Wind had different tasks… I am not one to tell you how difficult your journey was. Even if we could safely say that each of our journeys was of equal difficulty, I don’t care about your physical prowess. I care that you didn’t give up, that even though you failed so many times you had the courage to succeed in the end. That is truly amazing. Also, might I add that you have no idea if any of them have ever died?” Time says. “You didn’t know I had until you forced it out of me by having a crisis on a bridge at midnight.”

Wild laughs. It’s a weak, garbled sound, but it’s there, and Time feels a swell of pride. 

“I’m still not going to tell them,” he says. 

“That’s okay,” Time replies, “as long as you’re ready to if it comes down to it.”

“Oh.” Wild takes a deep breath. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he says, and he means it. Looking over at the half-grin on Wild’s face, Time thinks,  _ I put that there _ . And then he smiles, because this is one of his boys. Though he’s sure Wild isn’t the only one with something like this, with something they need to get off their chest. He thinks of Four talking to himself, and Twilight’s face at dusk, and Hyrule pulling his sword at the slightest sound, and Legend snarking through a pang of hurt in his eyes that’s so, so visible… the list goes on. Maybe Time won’t be able to help all of them. Maybe he doesn’t need to. That’s okay. But right now, he thinks that if it came down to it, he’d maybe be okay at it. And there’s something light and floaty and strange and warm inside his chest.

“Look,” Wild whispers, pointing to the place where the falls meet the sky, and Time does. 

Rising above the horizon, a dragon flies, twining through the sky like a glittering emerald ribbon. It’s beautiful, crackling with lighting. Its single horn glows golden like a star all its own, and its energy glitters across the rippling river far below his feet. 

“Farosh,” Wild whispers, “the dragon-spirit of courage.”

He holds Wild tighter, and Wild leans into the touch. Together, they watch the serpentine beast as it flies, and its electricity is a spray of yellow stars across the falls.

* * *

_ The girl who should have been dead was planting gravestones. _

_ She planted the first in a copse of trees, not far from the blue glow atop the cliff. Her eyes were closed, eyelids playing back a memory of blood and pain and terror. She should have buried what was left, she knew, but the plant life had already taken over. Vines twined around bones, a rainbow of wildflowers bloomed in every corner, and ferns rooted themselves around knuckle bones and fingertips.  _

_ When she buried the flower in the ribcage, it nestled between a sprig of daisies and some other big-leafed plant. It looked like it belonged there, like it was the final piece nature was waiting for. _

_ The land of Hyrule was stained with death, an ink that lay heavy on its canvas. It would have been rather difficult to wash out. So instead, she planted flowers amid the bones. _

_ Link had shown her how they needed to grow in the wild, had shown her the clusters near fairy fountains and atop hills that brushed the sky. Where a controlled environment ruined growth, in the wilds, in freedom they flourished. She didn’t have any trouble transplanting; every flower she placed inside a ribcage took root. _

_ She told the Deku Tree of this once. He only hummed, sounding amused. _

_ She let them take root in cages of bone, their petals unfurling where one’s heart should lie. She found the bones, each grave, easily; she had seen each death, her watch a silent vigil.  _

_ The girl who planted flowers was planting gravestones, soft and blue. She was not planting condemnations or scoldings in the wake of failure. She was planting badges of honor, commemorations of persistence. She was planting freedom. Maybe they could all move on. _

_ She planted the last in a field of spiders, where crimson once painted the ground. The wasteland was quiet, grasses swaying tall. She watched the roots mesh into the dirt like they had life of their own with hopes that her flowers would spread, clothing the land in swathes of gentle blue glow, covering white bone in beauty.  _

_ As she stood, brushing the dirt off her hands, she took a moment to imagine it - a thousand glimmering Silent Princesses, swaying before the ruins of the military fort. A world that glowed blue at night, where nooks and crannies and corners and coves were home to the skeletons of courage, to the advents of failure, where the advents of failure are home to clusters of blue lilies, bright and beautiful under the stars.  _

What a wonderful sight, _ she thought.  _ What a wonderful sight to see.

_ It was almost dusk. Atop the Great Plateau, something was glowing in the woods. _

* * *

Time is writing in his journal when he overhears it. 

Really, he’s not writing, he’s doodling. There’s a dragon taking form beneath his pen, colored by his memories of the night before. It’s mindless enough that once he starts listening to the conversation, he can’t stop.

A quick glance upwards shows Warriors standing next to Wild, who’s kneeled next to the fire, prepping dinner. 

“Listen, Wild, I-” Warriors starts with a sigh. “I don’t know…”

“Yeah?” Wild looks up from the cooking pot, giving Warriors a hesitant smile. 

“I don’t have any idea of what just happened, these past few days, and that’s…” he hesitates. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. But I need your help.”

“With what?” Wild gives the veggies in the pot one last stir, then puts the lid on, standing up.

Warriors flushes. “I haven’t even said what it is and you’re so ready to-”

“Dude.” Wild grabs his hands. “Of course. Us Links gotta look out for each other.”

“Well, now I just feel like an ass,” Warriors mutters. “Well, I really need to apologize. While you were gone, no one was really sure… whether or not to go after you. Some of us wanted to give you your space. Some of us wanted to find you, make sure you were okay.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Wild says. Time can still hear the careful measuredness to his voice even from halfway across camp. 

“No, no, that’s not what I wanted to apologize for.” Time’s eyes flick up from his sketch of Malon in time to see Warriors square himself, face hardening. “After what happened when you were shot, I was concerned that the secrets you’ve been keeping could be dangerous.”

Time runs the pen along the page, trying to portray her soft grin. The ink smudges, and he scribbles the drawing out with a huff.

“We- some of us, it was mostly me- looked into what we thought may be relevant, namely the Silent Princess flower. I was looking out for the group’s safety, for your safety, but I really shouldn’t have dug so deep. Legend was right, I could have just talked to you about it. I was scared, and worried, and I didn’t want to have a difficult conversation - how silly is that? I guess I’m just too used to needing all the information- are you okay? I’m sorry, I-”

“How much did you hear?” Time can barely make out what Wild says, his words raspy. He’s very still, staring Warriors straight in the eyes. “What did you find out?”

If Warriors was awkward before, he’s dissolving now. “I-” He swallows, rubbing the back of his neck. “Rumors, mostly. Fragments of gossip and theories and a couple of lessons on environmental history.”

Wild exhales. “You don’t know.”

“Yeah…” Warriors huffs out a laugh. “No clue.”

“You did lead with that, didn’t you.” Wild smiles wryly. “It’s all good, Captain. I appreciate the sentiment.”

Warriors sighs, deflating. “That’s… that is wonderful. Thank you. Because I still have to talk to Legend and was hoping you’d maybe help me…?” 

Time’s almost completed his third attempt at drawing his wife when Sky sits down next to him. 

“Glad those guys are working their stuff out,” he says. Time hums in agreement. There’s a sudden nervous churning in his gut, and he finds himself staring down at the almost-finished Malon staring up at him from the page, at the other two scratched-out attempts, torn between slamming the notebook shut and making nothing of it. 

“I was a little worried I’d have to get involved to make them finally talk.” Sky chuckles. “Good one on the Captain, huh?”

The roiling feeling in his stomach intensifies.  _ I’m the one who’s supposed to be holding us together, _ he thinks.  _ Not you. That shouldn’t be on you. _

“Hey, you okay?” Sky asks, frowning. 

“I-” Time rubs the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know.” He deflates. 

“What’s wrong?” Sky tilts his head, expression soft, and Time shouldn’t say anything, this shouldn’t be on Sky, but it’s too much, all of a sudden, that even now he’s helping, when Time should at least be able to handle himself. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Time admits. 

He glances over at Sky. He’s got the same face on as before, that quiet patience. 

“We never really…  _ established  _ this, but I’m the leader, here, aren’t I? One of them, at least.” Time sighs. “I should have been able to do something. I should be able to hold us together. But I don’t know how to do any of this. I don’t know how to handle people. You had to break them up, you had to fix them, every time. You shouldn’t have to worry about that.”

“You shouldn’t have to worry about their problems, either,” Sky points out. “ _ Their _ problems. Not yours.”

“Yeah, well…” Time sags. “People need help sometimes.”

For a moment, Sky says nothing. When Time looks over, he’s grinning to himself, staring down at the grass he’s braiding in his hands. 

“What?” Time asks. “They do. And that’s okay!”

Sky looks over at him, still grinning. “You should listen to yourself a little more, old man.” He stands up, dropping the mutilated blades of grass and stretching. “We’re a team for a reason, you know. You’re right. People do need help sometimes. And that applies to you, too.” 

The realization is like whiplash. Time is left with his mouth hanging open, and Sky’s grin softens. 

“I’d better go tell Wild his dinner needs to be checked on,” Sky says, staring out at the smoke billowing from the pot in the center of camp. “I may not be a very good cook, but I’m  _ pretty sure  _ it’s not supposed to do that.” With a nod, he walks away. 

For a moment, Time just sits there. Then, he looks out over camp, looks at the boys he’s been traveling with for the past few weeks and already grown so soft for. Four has a book open and Wind’s reading over his shoulder; both are curled up against a sleeping Woflie’s side. Hyrule is staring ponderously at the smoking pot. As Time watches, Wild sprints up with a yelp, throwing the lid off to the side and bodily heaving the pot off the fire. He drops it to the side, yanking his hands back with a whimper. They come away reddish and blistered. Hyrule walks over, hands already glowing with healing magic. 

“Are you okay?” Sky asks, walking up. He looks concerned, but there’s a bemused lilt to his voice.

Wild sighs as Hyrule takes his hands, burns smoothing into new, pink skin. “I  _ will  _ be,” he mutters. 

“What did you expect, really?”

“I had to save dinner!” Wild protests. 

“Looked like it was doing fine to me,” Hyrule says. 

Wild hums happily as Hyrule lets go of his hands, examining the healed skin. “I’m not going to say anything to that because you just fixed my hands, but  _ dude _ .” 

“You should sit down,” Sky advises, leading Hyrule over to a tree stump. “Really, he could have just taken a potion. Speaking of, do you know how many magic potions we’ve got on hand? There’s still a lot of evening left, I’d hate for you to have to sleep through it…”

In the shade of a leafy tropical tree across camp, Legend and Warriors sit next to each other. Time can’t make out what’s being said, and he’s glad. But Legend’s head is on Warriors’ shoulder as they talk, and that says enough. That’s the friendliest physical contact anyone’s ever gotten from that man.

Time glances around camp once more, stained raspberry-bronze by the setting sun. The evening is steeped in the chirruping of rainforest insects; Time knows that soon, the moon will be up, and the lilies glowing in their macabre cages. For now, he lets the hum of the heroes’ voices fill his ears, vibrate warm and soft inside his head. 

He looks down at the unfinished drawing in his notebook. He considers it for a moment, tilting his head. Then, he adds a mouth. A few firm lines make a crooked grin. It’s not perfect, but it’s nice. Familiar. Passable. He smiles back.

Then, he flips to an earlier page. There, written dark and unsure on the crisp paper, is the beginning of his letter from only a few days ago. 

He moves down the page a little, leaving space between the old words and the new. Then, he begins.

_ Dear Malon, _ he writes.  _ I think I figured it out. Finally. _

_ I might not be perfect. I might be scared, or flawed, and I might screw up. But what matters is that I try, and I keep trying. And I think I’m ready to.  _

_ I miss you every day. You listen better than anyone. I can’t wait to see your smile again and tell you where I’ve been and I could still use some advice.  _

_ But for now, I think I’ll be just fine. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zelda planting the Silent Princesses was inspired by “this silence is mine” by solid-no-on-that. Go check it out; it’s a great read and it gave me all the feels: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19206082  
> Thank you to everyone for reading. I hope you enjoyed as much as I did! Your support has meant so much.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic’s title was inspired by a passage from the Hunter’s Journal from Hollow Knight, specifically the entry on Shades.  
> Thank you for reading :> As always, feel free to point out mistakes.


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